The Miraculous Chaos of Christmas
by Musiclover14
Summary: Christmas and cancer don't really mix together so well. But throw in new apartments, shopping, family, and love and maybe the holiday can work out after all. Alex/Izzie
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I am new to the Grey's Anatomy fanfiction scene. In fact, I'm pretty new to Grey's Anatomy itself. Just one month ago I started the series and now I'm six and a half season through it. For that reason I know this story might be absurdly late, and maybe all of the fans of Alex/Izzie have since vanished and changed sides to whomever he may end up with in season eight. It's new to me though, and after watching day after day just waiting for the two of them to work on the love that I knew they had for one another, watching it all disperse so easily just broke my heart. So, here's what I'm doing to fix my poor, broken shipper heart.**

**Now, there are a couple of differences in my story than to how the original series was going, nothing drastic though. First off, in order to fit my time line I'd like for you all to go with the idea of Izzie having had her first surgery in the end of August and then starting chemo in the beginning of September. All of the events that happened in the show apply up to her near death experience. George is ALIVE. Because he shouldn't have died, so he remains in this story. Izzie's hair isn't magically going to start growing back despite the fact that she is still on chemo, like it did in the show. Also, she won't be going back to work in a hospital (a place riddled with infection and diseases) when she still has such a susceptible immune system. Not sure what the writers were thinking but those two things really just don't work, medically speaking.**

**For those of you unaware as to how IL-2 treatments work I'd like to give you a quick crash course. The recipient of the drug is to be admitted to the hospital each time he receives it due to the aggressive nature of it. It is given out in fifteen minute increments every eight hours for 3-5 days. The patient can often be admitted to ICU depending on the severity of their side effects. If you have any more questions, or if I seem to have gotten anything wrong, please let me know.**

**This story is going to be updated daily from now until Christmas, revolving around each day in Izzie and Alex's world leading up to their own Christmas. I'm going to alternate point of views each chapter so, since today is Izzie's day, tomorrow will be Alex's. I'll write it at the beginning of each chapter. **

**Lastly, after this marathon of an author's note, I would like to say thank you for reading even if the Alex/Izzie shipper boat has long since sunk like the Titanic into the ocean. Also, if you have read/written and Alex/Izzie fanfics please send them my way. In order to avoid spoilers I haven't really searched through FF for fics on them but I would love to read any you have to suggest!**

**Finally, on to the story!**

Izzie - December 1st 9:58 AM

I watch as the intern oncologist begins hooking up all of the necessary tubes to my central line, preparing me for the beginning of my next round of IL-2 treatment. I take a breath, preparing myself for the beginning of a very long next few days. This was my fifth treatment, but it wasn't like it ever got much easier. Is it possible to adjust to exhaustion, nausea, and near constant body aches? The treatment was hell, yet I still showed up, although, not without a bit of coaxing.

"You should be all set just-"

"Press the button if I need a nurse," I interrupt, giving the intern a kind smile. I hadn't seen her around before, perhaps she'd entered the program late. "I've been here a couple of times before." She nods and gives me a small smile in response, it was pitying, but I accepted it graciously regardless. She begins to walk toward the door but stops before she makes it all the way, grabbing a pink bucket from the supply cart and shyly setting it on the floor next to me. Puke bucket. I give her another small smile before she leaves. I pull my feet up next to me, trying to relax in the fairly comfortable recliners they gave us. I swear, they're better than the beds.

It was a slow day today. Still early in the morning so only a few of the patients were in for their treatments of the day. Maybe five of the seventeen chairs were filled. Sometimes the quiet was nice, especially when you started getting really sick, but when it first begins and you're lonely, it's nice to have all of the friends you've made around you.

"You're too nice to 'em, Izzie," the older man next to me says. He was bald, just like everyone else here, and in his late sixties. His face was wrinkled and his skin spotted with old age. He was the kind of person you thought of when you considered cancer. "They need a healthy dose of fear from us."

"Oh please, Henry," I say with a slight laugh. "Quit terrorizing everyone who comes within forty feet of you."

"I don't recall ever terrorizing you, darling," he replies with a joking smile. He was a kind old man, cranky with many, but kind on the inside, scared just like the rest of us. "Besides, couple more months and I won't be terrorizing anyone no more."

I stop and digest that for a second. Here, time lines meant either the really good or the really bad. Two more months could mean the end of his treatment, when he could be declared into remission, or it could mean the time they've given him to live. You always hope it's the first, but it usually ends up being the other one.

"That better mean what I hope it does," I say in a fake stern voice. I'd lost too many friends here to be up to losing anymore.

"You really think I'd be giving up if it weren't?" he questions, his face a picture of annoyance but he smiled with me as I reached my hand out a clutched his arm. I laughed in relief, it was always great to have the chance to watch someone live.

"That's so great Henry!" I say happily, my smile overtaking my entire face as my cheeks develop a slight ache. I'd gained a soft spot for the man over the past couple of months.

"What's great?" Alex asks as he enters the room, a smile on his own face as he approaches me, leaning down to kiss me gently before pulling over one of the far less comfortable chairs to sit in next to me.

"Henry's scans were clean!" I burst out, celebrating like they were my own scans, because even if they weren't my scans they were still a hope to hold on to, and I needed all the hope I could get my hands on. "He just has to finish up his chemo and then he's a free man."

"Nice to see ya again," Alex says, reaching over me to shake Henry's hand. "And congratulations, that is great." He takes a hand and threads it through my fingers, not looking so happy himself at the news. Did he not understand how great it was? He was probably just upset with how attached I was getting to one of my fellow patients again. I wasn't about to let it bring down my joy, however. I gave his hand a little tug, getting him to look at me where a smile still rested peacefully. He smiles for me then, looking as happy as could be.

"Never smoke, kid," Henry advises for probably the twentieth time since I'd known him. We all wanted to pass our consequence ridden body knowledge onto others. Don't smoke, eat fish, put on sunscreen, all suggestions we handed out in hopes to prevent this from anyone else.

"I am a doctor," he replies like it was obvious he wouldn't even think of it. "I need to talk to you," he says to me and I'm worried for a split second before I see the excitement in his eyes. This was a good talk.

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise already?" Henry jokes and I laugh.

Alex rolls his eye impatiently."Alone," he adds.

"You do know where we are, right?" I question, gesturing to the room around me. I was one in a circle of chairs, with nothing else aside from beeping machines and medical supplies. "Unless you'd like me to put my IV pole between Henry and I you might just have to deal."

"Oh whatever," he says, and I know he's not really agitated because of the light that was still in his eye. "Tell me, what was the last argument we had?" he asks and I stop, trying to think.

"Where we went for lunch yesterday?" I ask, wondering if this mornings argument over whether I had to actually get up or not counted. He shakes his head. "Oh! Who was the one to use the last of the toilet paper." Another no.

"Maybe about that fake ring on your hand," Henry suggests and I gently swat his arm.

"Definitely not," I respond immediately. I couldn't help but worry over how I was sure Alex must feel about being unable to supply me with a real ring. I wasn't lying when I said I liked the one he had given me. It was different, nontraditional, just like us. "I love my ring."

Alex looks at me impatiently, still waiting for me to guess. "Think, the last _real_ argument we had."

I stop, contemplating, because all I'd come up with was the whole sex situation and I really, really hoped he wasn't bringing that up in front of Henry whether privacy had been achievable or not. "I give up," I say.

"About the trailer," he reminds me quickly and I contemplate that. I wondered where he was going with this exactly. "Now, you didn't want to move back in with Meredith and Derek," he rehashes.

"Definitely not," I agree. No moving backward.

"And I had stated my concerns with bears roaming within spitting distance as well as my desperate desire for indoor plumbing. A man should not have to miss plumbing that much, Izzie," he accentuates.

"I got it," I confirm so he won't feel the need to carry on about our crap bucket and the morning he had to rinse his mouth with beer after brushing his teeth. It was his own fault for not getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Well I've found a compromise," he says proudly and passes me a flyer. It has two pictures, one of a living room and another of a bedroom. Words like "wood floors" and "spacious living areas" jump out at me as I look at it.

"An apartment?" I ask, scanning my eyes down the page in search of price.

"It can be our own space, just like you want," he says happily. "And there won't be any bears or crap buckets, just like I want." He smiles at me looking lighter than he had since my little near death experience.

"A compromise," I repeat, nodding my head in agreement. "I think it's perfect," I admit.

"Good," he says."Because I might have already put an offer on it."

"Alex!" I reprimand lightly. I can't pull it off though, caught up in a dizzy love spell as he smiles brightly. Stupid marriage butterflies. Probably didn't help that I was getting doped up on IL-2. "Well you're lucky I like it."

"I'm lucky for many more reasons than that," he says cheekily as he leans in an kisses me. " I have to get back to work, but I'll be back when I get my lunch," he promises, giving my hand a squeeze before releasing it. "Should I come find you here or your room?"

"Hopefully here," I say. It always depended on how fast the treatment started getting aggressive. I didn't want my friends to see me in here like that.

He nods before leaning down for a kiss to my forehead and then turning to leave. "I'm happy to hear you'll be okay," Alex says to Henry as he walks out the door.

"You've got a good one, Izzie," he tells me, almost like I didn't already know.

11:47 AM

I puke for the third time and it's not till I'm almost too weak to lift my bucket up for the fourth and I'm shaking from being so chilled, that I decide it's time to give up and go to my room. I ignore the nurses button, paging Cristina instead.

She shows up two minutes later, pushing an empty wheelchair my way. "You didn't make it very long today," she comments. I ignore her as I slowly pull myself up from the recliner and then lower myself into the wheelchair.

"Shut up," I respond, reaching out to grab my IV pole to pull along with me, but lose my balance as I begin leaning forward, causing me to almost fall out of my chair. Henry grabs me, still in far better condition than I am, and pushes me back lightly, rolling the pole to me himself. I smile gratefully. "You didn't tell Alex, did you?" I ask as she stops to listen to my chest before wheeling me to my room.

"No, now shh, and let me listen." I sit quietly for a minute, wanting to be in a bed where the room might stop spinning some.

"My blood pressure's low," I tell her when she finally pulls the stethoscope away from my chest.

"And your heart rate is increased." I sigh, it was hitting me quickly and all at once, and it was pretty damn awful. "I need to get you upstairs and hooked up right away," Cristina says, now in full in doctor mode. This was why I paged her.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, Henry?" I ask. He only had two days of treatment before he got to go home, so I could miss him.

"As long as you get yourself better first," he tells me and I smile weakly. Now he's the one who reaches out and grips my arm for a second.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow," I lay my head back as Cristina begins pushing me out of the room and toward the elevators, breathing evenly through my nose as I try to calm my nausea as well as my shivering. My head flops down on to Cristina's hand, and I feel too tired to move it just now, so I leave it there. I know she must like me at least a little, because she doesn't order me to move.

2:13 PM

"Hey," Alex says quietly as I open my eyes slowly, trying to let them adjust to the bright lighting overhead. He leans over the bed and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Not feeling so great?" he asks, obviously knowing the answer.

"Dry," I respond, because that's how everything felt. My mouth was like a desert, not a single drop of water to be found. He holds a pink cup of water with a straw sticking out up to my lips for me to drink some, and doesn't miss a beat as he pulls out a medical chap stick from his scrubs pocket and rolls it over my lips, then kisses them gently.

"Better?" he asks softly, his face still resting closely to mine. I smile the best I can at him.

"Why am I laying flat?" I ask, finding the position uncomfortable. "Did my low blood pressure not get better?"

"It was a little too low for comfort there Dr. Bailey said so she lowered the bed and-"

"Gave me saline through my IV," I finish. He nods in response and then reaches down to bring the bed up for me so I can sit much more comfortably.

"Ready for your next dose tonight?" he asks, referring to my six o' clock dose of IL-2. I groan at the thought, my body still worn by the beginning of my treatment.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I ask crankily. "I'm bored," I say next, heaving a sigh. I'd only been awake for two minutes and I already wanted to leave.

"I'd give you another wedding to prepare, but unless Sloan and Lexie stupidly decide to get married I don't think I can offer you much," he says and I smile.

"Considering Meredith and Derek got married on a post it I could always rectify that," I suggest happily. I still smiled at the very thought of my own wedding, the completely, unexpectedly perfect day that it was.

"They'd kill you," he warns, and I know how right he is. "I have good news," he tells me. I raise my eyebrows, prodding him to tell me and not make me play a silly guessing game again. "By the time you're discharged we should have our own apartment to live in," he tells me and I sit up a little straighter, the promise of a new place to live reviving my energy minimally.

"You mean we'll be there in time for Christmas?" I ask warily, afraid to get too excited in case I'd misunderstood.

"You bet," he says and I swear my face lights up like the Christmas tree I'd had stuck in my head for days.

I laugh from the joy of it, thrilled with the idea of having my own little place to decorate. "We have to go to Target as soon as I'm discharged," I declare. He raises an eyebrow at me. "We need decorations!" I almost yell in excitement. I had no life these days, decorating my own place was exactly what I needed, and, considering Alex wasn't all "dark and twisty" as the people I'd lived with on previous Christmases, I was pretty sure he'd like it. Maybe even help me if I wanted.

He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Right, what was I thinking," he replies mockingly.

I hit his chest weakly with the back of my hand. "Don't you have work to do?" I ask, as I watch Dr. Hunt walk by. "What case are you working on today?"

"I have a solo appy in an hour," he says. "O'Malley is scrubbing in."

I sigh, "Try and get something more exciting tomorrow, okay," I tell him and pat my hand against his cheek. "Now go prepare." He gets up, kissing me before he leaves. "And tell George I say hi!" I add. He didn't visit me, not like the others did.

Bailey walks in just as Alex exits through the door. "I need to take your blood pressure again," she says and wraps the cuff around my arm. "And don't you dare let it drop like it did earlier, Stevens," she warns me in a tone reminiscent of intern days.

"You got it, Dr. Bailey," I confirm for her. "Have you seen George around?" I ask, thinking of my once best friend. It was a relationship fragmented by dumb drunk sex followed by a train wreck of a relationship, but it shouldn't be. We should have been able to revive it by now. It was just like...neither of us were trying very hard.

"Oh, I've seen him around, alright," she says in a tone that suggest it wasn't in a good way. "I've seen him around plenty."

"What'd he do?" I ask nervously as I consider all of the things George could have gotten himself into trouble with.

"He messed with my patient is what he did," she snaps back, squeezing the cuff tighter and tighter until releasing it. "90 over 60," she reports and I breathe a sigh of relief. Much better. "If I beat him like I should I'll be sure to make sure you two get to be bunk mates," she assures me.

"It can't be that bad," I say. "George has good instincts." I would trust George with my life and I didn't doubt his capabilities with patients. No one else has had faith in George ever since his first day with the failure of his appy. It seemed from there that they were all proven right as he failed his boards and was almost forced to go through his intern years all over again. I never lost faith in him though, and I still believed he would show the world what a great doctor he was. How satisfying it would be to see the faces of all of those people who doubted him when he went to receive a Harper Avery or something.

"I don't care if that boy has the instincts of an ostrich before a stampede. He better do what I say, _when_ I say it," she spews out angrily. I was sure that I was receiving the brunt of her anger toward George right now.

I add nothing more the conversation and instead just try my best to rearrange myself in a more comfortable position. It was fruitless effort in a hospital bed, really. "How's Tucker?" I ask, hopeful for some friendly conversation. Usually talking about her son made her a little more...normal.

"He's a stressed out kid, Stevens," is all she says and I sigh, this wasn't going anywhere, I could tell already. I'd just have to find something to watch on TV.

"Am I all done?" I ask as she scribbles something in my chart.

"Not quite, it's been four hours," she reminds me and tosses a cup in my direction. "Urine time."

5:42 PM

Meredith is sitting next to me, shoes kicked off and lunch tray pushed to the side as she rambles on about her current relationship trouble with Derek. I was happy to play mediator with the two of them, which is good because they seemed to need it an awful lot.

"I hardly think it's right!" she finishes, heaving a sigh of frustration.

"Have you talked to him at all, Mer?" I ask. It always seemed like such an obvious solution, but how often we forgot it was even an option, myself included. "Maybe he wasn't yelling out of your disagreement this morning but because you weren't listening."

She shoots me a glare and despite the fact that I could take her tiny little body down even with my weakened chemo filled one I still felt a small tremor of fear. No wonder Derek gave into her so easily. "You're supposed to take my side."

"I'm giving you advice," I remind her. "I can't be a partial viewer if I'm going to help you resolve anything." Oh god, it was official. I had watched too much Dr. Phil.

She wrinkles her nose at my response. "Now you just sound like my therapist." Yep, far too much Dr. Phil.

"I hardly think you need a second therapist." Cristina scoffs as she comes into my room, setting herself on the window seat as she opens her to go container of cafeteria food. "You should eat before your next IL-2 treatment starts," she doctors me and I shrug my shoulders.

"It's not like it'll stay down in a couple of hours." Cristina shrugs her shoulders and then consults Meredith, who starts from the beginning of her story, just as enthusiastic and angry as her first time around.

"Hey," Alex says as he comes in next, two paper bags in his hands. I smile in hope as he sets one on the table in front of me. "Eat," he directs and props himself down at my feet, shoving some of the things on my tray over to make room for his meal.

"Oh, he's totally out of line," Cristina comments at the end of Meredith's story.

"What am I missing?" Alex asks and I jump in before Meredith can start again.

"Meredith and Derek got in a fight this morning over something that has been omitted, so later today when they were in the OR together he yelled at her. She assumes he was doing it just because of his already existent frustration with her." It was so much shorter when I explained. I laid my head back, it was starting to ache, probably why I was so cranky.

"You left out the part where he had Lexie take over on holding the retractor and made me suction."

"That's a lateral move," Cristina comments. "You weren't gaining the world's best education from doing either." There's where the logical Cristina chimed in.

"How'd your appy go?" I ask, silently questioning about George as well.

"Good, O'Malley opened and closed for me and the procedure was nothing out of the ordinary." I nod tiredly. "Eat," he says again. I sit myself up against the pillows, Meredith reaches behind me and pulls one up to help, and I then begin pulling out the contents of the bag.

My eyes are focused on the somehow appealing looking burger in front of me, so when the doors open I don't even look up before giving my greeting. "Already, Dr. Bailey? I was hoping to eat before it started." No one answers me so I look up and smile happily at the sight before me. "George!"

"Hey," he says quietly. "I'm just uh, I'm just gonna start your IL-2 now," he tells me.

"Aren't you eating too?" I ask, despite noting his empty hands. He hangs the bag containing my toxic medicine and connects the IV, allowing it to run into my veins for the second time that day.

"Nah, I've got labs to deliver," he tells me, and I frown. My best friend hated me. Great. I had cancer and my best friend hated me.

"But...I have cancer," I say and Meredith and Cristina both groan. I smile in spite of the situation. Playing the cancer card was really fun sometimes. Not as fun as setting all of my alarms off to freak out Cristina, but still fun.

"You know," Meredith says, standing with her empty tray. "I'm done and Cristina needs to go get some of her own labs so we can just do it," she offers, her own worries over Derek's reaction in the OR seemingly forgotten now. That was what made her a good friend. Even if she was dealing with something she'd take the time to consider your problems too.

"I do," Cristina asks, looking confused. Meredith elbows her in response. "Oh! Oh, that's right I...do."

I laugh at their awful acting but it's cut short when I see George's face. He didn't look grateful, or pleased, or even like he'd fallen into submission. He looked as though someone had forced some unpleasant into his mouth, and then made him swallow it. He didn't want to be near me.

"Let him do his job, guys," I say and give George a little smile. He's too busy staring awkwardly at his feet to notice though. "Go on, get your labs," I say, sending him away. He nods in my general direction before leaving. After that everyone is silent, frozen, and they're all staring at me. Probably waiting for me to cry, or puke, or pass out or something. That's what we did these days. "What are you all staring at?" I ask nonchalantly as I take a huge bite of burger, preventing me from saying anymore. I tried my best to savor the taste now because I knew in an hour it wouldn't be tasting so good.

9:22 PM

I laugh in good humor as Derek Shepherd finishes his corny joke. He was nice enough to come visit me, but I wondered if he was just trying to win brownie points back with Meredith since she was probably still ready to bite his head off from the earlier event. I wanted to ask him to leave, the IL-2 was working just as well as always. Luckily he had only been here for a few minutes and had missed my original vomiting, but now got to see my red, irritated skin and exhausted body. I was only able to half listen to his words as my concentration dosed in and out.

I must have fallen asleep at some point for, next thing I knew, Alex was laying carefully in bed next to me, not really touching me much, probably to avoid waking me. I tug on his arm lightly to pull him closer to me, I could use the extra body heat.

"Shouldn't you go pack?" I ask groggily, not really intending to let my new heated blanket up.

"Not tonight," he says and pulls me closer, very gently, because that was how he always touched me now. I missed the rough grabs and sexy tugs. Hell, I missed sex in general. "How was your day?"

I almost want to laugh in response. "Ridiculously boring."

"Is that why you fell asleep on Shepherd?" he asks and I feel embarrassed. I'd fallen asleep not even on one of my friends, but technically, one of my bosses.

"Oops," I mutter. I didn't have enough energy to stay embarrassed. I feel the unfortunate turn of my stomach, and the risings of acids in my throat. "Alex," I croak out panicked, and he reacts just in time. He sits me up and shoves the bin under my chin as the small amounts of content remaining in my stomach spill out. I groan, almost wanting to just eat something to give my body something more it could reject. It was easier on my stomach muscles. This way I might have some abs by the time I'm done with the IL-2 at least.

He sets the bin aside and wipes my nose and mouth. He holds a cup of water for me to sip, which I gratefully do, hoping to rid of the taste as much as possible. Then, finally, we lay back down.

"Better?" he asks, and I nod against him tiredly. "Ready to go to sleep again?"

"Mhm," I manage before curling myself a little more tightly around him and falling asleep.

**Thank you for reading! If anyone is still interested in reading Alex/Izzie fanfics please let me know with a review if you could. Just to reassure you all, this isn't a story that will take place around her chemo treatment. It's the first layer of the story. Also, let me know how you feel about chapter lengths. I can't imagine they'd all be this long but, just in case they might be if you want them shorter let me know. I can edit. I will try to fit in as many other characters in Alex and Izzie's days as I can so you should get a decent dose of the whole cast. Thanks again!**


	2. Day 2

**Day 2! Thanks so much for all of the reviews, and also those of you kind enough to answer the many questions I had. I really appreciated it! It seems I've gotten a lot of anonymous reviews, which I wish I could reply to personally but since I cannot I would just like to say thank you to you all! I hope you enjoy the chapter and I will see you tomorrow.**

Alex - December 2nd 12:03 AM

"No." I hear the quiet protest from Izzie, which is what jerks me quickly awake. I pick my head up quickly, scanning around the room dizzily to find her bucket. She usually only woke up for two reasons; puking, or bathroom break. Admittedly it wasn't the most attractive, but it wasn't like I could blame her. Thank God I was a doctor or I might not have the stomach I do to deal with it.

"Lay back down before you end up throwing her off the bed, Karev," Bailey commands and I obey, falling back against the pillows with her against me. "I'm just starting the next round of IL-2."

No wonder she was annoyed. She hated the night doses even more than the others, complaining she should at least be able to sleep without the drug's interruptions. I had to say, I kind of agreed with her. Only we were doctors, we knew that missing a dosage just wasn't an option. Once the new IV is connected to her central line, Bailey takes out the blood pressure cuff to measure Izzie's. She's only half awake now, her eyes slipping shut the longer she tried to keep them open. I look expectantly for the results. "90 over 70," she reports. That was good, still high enough to be considered normal. "When was the last time she urinated?"

"I don't know," I answer. "She was asleep when I got here, hasn't been up since then." She nods, looking at Izzie contemplatively, but she must have decided against it as she doesn't say anything. She does however hold up two new buckets for us to use when she wakes up later, setting them on her table. I nod gratefully.

"Get some sleep," she says, almost a little too kindly for Bailey. "You've got rounds in the morning." I smile, that was the Bailey we all knew and loved.

I press a kiss against my wife's still scarfed head and rub her back, drifting in between awake and restfulness, but really waiting for the first wave of the chills and nausea to hit her again.

5:30 AM

The vibrating of the phone in my pocket barely has time to start before I reach for it and shut it off. Izzie lay miserably in my arms, looking ashen and pale as she breathed with effort. I sigh, extracting myself from her weak limbs. I grab the nasal cannula and set it into place. Her face is warm against my hand and she begins to shiver now that I've pulled away. I'm about to walk out and get her some more blankets from the supply closet when I find some of our own blankets from home sitting on the chair. I'm not sure how they got here, but I was glad they were there. They were much more comfortable than the scratchy hospital ones. You'd think they would spend a little more money and get some nicer bedding for the patients, considering how often they're stuck in bed and all.

"I'm gonna go get ready for rounds," I whisper to her as I lay the last blanket over top of her frail body. I place a clean bin next to her, she hadn't really stopped puking since two this morning. You'd think after long enough her body would just give up considering how empty her stomach was. No such luck though, of course. Her eyes drift close as I run my hand gently over her head a few times. I shake my head and walk into the bathroom. My eyes felt like they were on fire every time I blinked I was so tired. I didn't know how I'd make it through the day but I'd find a way somehow.

I start with a shower, turning the water nice and cold to wake myself up. Then I brush my teeth, peeking my head out the door halfway through to see if she was sleeping yet. Thankfully, she finally was. One quick glance in the mirror, and then at the clock, and I determine my facial hair not in need of any maintenance. I throw on a clean pair of scrubs and grab ten dollars from yesterdays pants to buy myself a coffee. I search through the room in the dark, trying to find my shoes. I stub my toe twice and mistake Izzie's leg for my shoe before I finally have them both. One more quick kiss to her forehead and then I'm out the door for the morning, leaving my wife to lie in bed, half alive.

8:21 AM

"You should be working," Izzie reprimands as she opens her eyes tiredly. It tore my eyes away from the monitor, which displayed her heart rate and its too fast pace. I feared tachycardia if this kept up. I didn't really care for the idea of her spending the rest of her time here in the ICU. I notice her lick her lips and grab the cup and chap stick. I'd probably make fun of any guy who carried chap stick around in his pocket, but this time I was that guy. She gives me a weak smile in response to my actions. That made carrying chap stick around worth it.

"I am," I say, holding up a chart. "I can chart in here or I can chart at a desk. I don't see much difference." She rolls her eyes lightly at me, but I knew she was glad I was here. I'd spent enough time in hospital beds to remember how boring it can get when you're all alone.

She slowly starts to get up, taking a deep breath as she forces herself into a sitting position and swings her feet over the side of the bed. If she's this dizzy then her blood pressure must be low. I'd need to call Bailey in to take it so that she could give her some nor-epinephrine if she needed it. She slowly starts lowering herself to the floor and I want to help, refraining was never easy, but I knew from experience that she'd rather ask for help when she figured out she needed it than for me to force it on her.

"Alex," she says quietly and I take not even three seconds to get from the chair to my wife. I wrap an arm around her, supporting her body as we take a step together.

"You wanna bring the IV pole with us?" I ask and she looks at me groggily, not understanding at first but eventually realization dawns on her face and she reaches out and grabs it to pull along with us. We take step by step slowly until we reach the bathroom.

"You stay here," she directs with as much force in her voice as she can manage. I smile and let her pull away from my arm, keeping a hand wrapped around her upper arm just in case, until she closes the door in my face. I lean against the wall next to it, listening carefully.

"There you are, Dr. Karev," a blonde doctor says as she appears through the door. I don't recognize her immediately, it takes me a minute to place her as Callie's girlfriend and the surgeon for pediatrics. Dr. Robins, I think was her name. I wanted to groan at the thought of being on peds today. I didn't really have the energy for snotty nosed kids who needed their appendixes out. "Dr. Torres said I'd probably find you hear."

"Yeah, I'm, uh, charting," I say, covering my ass. Even if she had roller skates for shoes she was still an attending.

"It'll be our secret," she says with an exaggerated wink. I was all ready to let a bit of the rude Alex come out when Izzie opens the bathroom door, looking about ready to collapse against me. This time as we walk I carry more of her weight so she barely even has to shuffle her feet forward. Her skin is red and irritated still. It always looks so painful to me. I just about forget of Dr. Robins when she speaks again. "I need you on my service today," she says as I help Izzie back into bed, hooking the nasal cannula back up.

"Whatever, just give me a minute, would you?" I say, grabbing the blood pressure cuff and taking her blood pressure on my own. "Damn it," I mutter as I read the results, too low. If she kept at this pace she'd be in the ICU before her morning round of IL-2 even had the chance to kick in. "I need to get Bailey," I say aloud.

"I'll page her for you," Dr. Robins offers kindly. I was lucky she wasn't yelling at me for talking to her like I had a minute ago. An advantage to working with someone from peds, I suppose.

The nurse enters the room with a breakfast tray for Izzie and sets it on her table. She goes to take the blood pressure cuff, but I cut her off. "60 over 45," I say, shaking my head. "She needs to eat, and she needs some nor-epinephrine." I try to take a breath and calm down, but her heart rate starts increasing, getting me even more concerned. "Dr. Robins, I don't know if I can be on your service today," I say as kindly as I can as I run to the bathroom for a cool wash cloth. Her fever must be breaking because a sheen of sweat had appeared in no time across her forehead.

"Go," she says weakly. How was it only day two and she was already this bad? I had a feeling there was no avoiding the ICU this time.

"Dr. Karev," Bailey says as she enters the room, moving quickly. "I've got her. You go do your job before I personally see to it that you are fired for all of this _not _working you seem to be doing."

I sigh, knowing she wasn't serious but unable to shake the mild fear even aware of that. I know if I stand here too much longer and just watch her get sicker I'm going to go out of my mind though. So it is with that that I turn and exit the room, ignoring the beeping of the monitor as I go.

"Do you need a minute?" Dr. Robins asks.

"No," I spit back. "I'm not some chick who gets all emotional," I defend to her as I try my best to shuffle the charts in my hands.

"Alright," is all she says in response to that. "Go put those charts back and we'll get started." We walk toward the front desk where I hand the charts over to the nurses and Dr. Robins asks for the one for her patient. "Here," she says and passes it to me. "You can have the opportunity to get to know about our patient's history before we go see her."

"Arizona!" Callie calls, rushing up to her. "Can I, uh, talk to you for a minute?" she asks and I turn away, making sure to stare intently at the chart in my hands. "Do you think tonight we could maybe reschedule dinner?"

"Sure," she responds easily. I could see why surgeons dated surgeons now. That was a lot easier than the times I'd seen the Chief cancel on his wife or Bailey explaining her absence to her husband. "Do you mind me asking why though?"

"I sort of had something else in mind," Callie says in a seductive tone, and out of the corner of my eye I watch her run a finger down Dr. Robins neck. I swallow hard, forcing back the rush of hormones. Honestly though, who could really blame me?

"As long as you promise to show me everything you had in mind tonight," she responds, her own voice dropping a couple of octaves from the previous perky chatter she had. "A very in depth display."

"Okay, hey, I'm standing right here," I interrupt, clearing my throat awkwardly.

"Oh, is our relationship making you uncomfortable, Dr. Karev?" Dr. Robins asks, sounding a little angry. Oh god, how do you explain to a lesbian that you weren't asking her to stop talking her girlfriend seductively not because you were a homophobic, but because you were getting turned on?

"Er, something like that," is all I say. Now would be one of those times where I wished that Izzie was better for more selfish purposes. I missed sex.

I hear a man laugh behind and turn to find Sloan. "I dare say you're getting good old Alex here a little happy in his pants," he says, patting me on the shoulder.

"Alright, can we just go save a life?" I ask, irritated. I might just have to think twice before the next time I aggravated O'Malley.

"You're right, we should," Arizona says and kisses Callie quickly before turning and skating, literally, down the hallway. I follow at a jog to keep up. "Are you up for a surgery today?" she asks, rhetorically I'd imagine.

"Yeah, of course," I respond as I navigate through the peds hallways, relatively unsure of where I was going. It didn't help that the whole place seemed to have been transformed into a Christmas wonderland. All of the decorations were kind of disorienting. I'd been in peds before, obviously, but it just wasn't something I did very often. I preferred fully grown parts. "Who isn't ready to scrub in on a surgery?"

"You'd be surprised," she replies simply and smiles as she walks past people in the hallways, mostly kids. She calls them by their names and sometimes adds something more to get them to smile. I was impressed for a second before I remembered I was in peds. Kids were easy to make like you, just make a funny face or something. Only Yang could make them hate her.

We enter a room, although I'm still staring at the chart so I haven't looked up yet. I'm grateful that, instead of four, her chart said she was thirteen. Although I'd have to give Dr. Robins credit if she got a teen to like her. They weren't easy to communicate with exactly. "Hi, Hannah!" she says cheerily. "This is Dr. Karev," she gestures to me. "He's going to be helping on your surgery today."

I look up and am caught off guard by what I see. It was like looking at my wife in younger version. Even the same shiny, bald scalp. I swear to god if this girl is terminal... "Care to give report, Dr. Karev?" Arizona asks, and I clear my throat and pull my eyes away from the girl.

"Thirteen year old Hannah Roberts. Diagnosed three years ago with stage three leukemia, went into remission a little over a year ago after a bone marrow transplant and finishing her chemo, but recent scans show a tumor in her spleen." I ignore the young girls eyes on me. They were oddly familiar.

"Do you know what that means, Hannah?" Arizona asks as she begins taking the girl's vitals. Her mom stands near the bed and her dad is asleep on the window seat. Parents hovered, I was beginning to understand why more and more.

"You're going to take my spleen out." I'm surprised by how unfazed she sounds. If I didn't know better I'd think she was excited.

"Yep!" Dr. Robins replies cheerily.

"Can I keep it?" she asks, now the excitement evident in her voice so much that it could not be ignored.

"Hannah!" her mom reprimands, as parents always do. "That's gross." I want to laugh at the disappointment on her face. She rolls her eyes looking back to Arizona hopefully.

"I'm afraid that's against hospital rules." Somehow that was overlooked for Meredith. I still remember her going on about her kidney in a jar, literally bragging over it as Yang drooled in envy. They were a weird group. "But maybe you can watch your surgery when you wake up if it's okay with Mom and Dad."

She looks hopefully at her mom, her dad still sleeping soundly. "We'll see," she says with a slight laugh. "My daughter, the scientist," she says, patting her daughter's bare head.

"Your surgery isn't until two today," Arizona says, and I try and make note of how she talked to the patient, not the parents first. It was smart, really. Probably makes them more comfortable when everyone isn't talking around them. "So Dr. Karev will be back here around one to start prepping you, okay?"

"Sounds good," her mom answers and holds her hand out to me. "I'm Rachel, Hannah's mom." I reach out and shake her hand.

"I promise to take excellent care of your daughter," I say sincerely.

"Alright then we'll be seeing you later," Dr. Robins says as she turns and leaves the room. I follow but grab her arm before we can go on to the next patient.

"What the hell?" I ask quietly because of the little boy wheeling around no more than fifteen feet from us.

"Excuse me?" she asks, her voice obviously offended.

"You insist I operate on a kid cancer patient, of all things?" I question. "You know about Izzie," I remind her.

"I hardly see how that changes anything," she responds and I shake my head in frustration. It was like talking to Cristina all of a sudden. And not the kind of talking to her where we're debating surgery tactics or arguing over who gets a patient, the kind where you just want to put your head through a wall.

"It changes things because I don't want to work in fucking peds!" I yell without thinking. I'm just about to curse about the fact that I just cursed so loudly in front of all of those kids, but I quickly think better of it.

"Dr. Karev," she starts, her tone stern. "I may have allowed you to snap at me when you were looking after your wife earlier, but now you are in my service and you will treat me as your attending, understood?"

She didn't look cut out for lectures, definitely not like Bailey. She almost looked...tired from it. "Yes, I'm sorry," I answer.

"If you'd like to talk about it-" she tries to offer like I was some charity case. I try not to reply rudely to her, though it was difficult knowing how she was looking at me right now. I wasn't some weak, helpless family member.

"I'm good," I say cynically and start off toward the next room, hoping she'll follow since I didn't really know where I was going.

11:30 AM

"Chief!" I yell out before he has a chance to walk away. I'd seen him arguing with Shepherd a minute earlier and didn't want him to go walking off before I got the chance to talk to him. I hadn't told Izzie yet, in case I wasn't able to get it, but I was hoping to get some time off around Christmas. She cared about the stupid holiday, and I cared about her, so I was kind of hopeless in the whole mix. I wouldn't be able to help but submit to her every plea on what was sure to be an absurd amount of decorations and endless baking. I'd do it all if it made her happy.

"What, Dr. Karev?" he asks, clearly irritated. I guess trying to talk to him when he was angry wasn't the best idea. Whatever, I was here now. "Make it quick. I'm a busy man."

"Right, sorry sir," I start, trying to get him to see I was being respectful. It used to help sometimes with my dad when I was a kid. "I wanted to talk to you about maybe having some time off around-"

"Time off?" he interrupts, his voice incredulous. God, I mean, I know he's used to dedicated employees but had no one ever really asked for time off? What was wrong with these people?

"Yes, sir. I know it's last minute, and I didn't submit it in writing or whatever the hell we're supposed to do and that I'm just a resident and I shouldn't be asking for time off in the first place, but Yang will be all over the extra work. Grey too, they both hate the holidays and normally I would too, but now I have a wife and I'm almost positive she likes Christmas more than me so..." I trail off, a little out of breath from the monologue. I didn't usually say that much at once.

"Take a week and a half," the Chief says and my jaw almost drops in surprise like in one of those cartoons. "But don't come crying to me when Yang gets some good surgery or something that you wanted," he instructs and I'm still a little too on the shocked side for it to register.

So we could take time off if we wanted. Good to know. "Yes, thank you, Chief."

"Uh-huh," is all he says before he starts walking away. I breathe in relief and then smile, excited to tell my wife, how weird that still was, that we got to spend Christmas together without any surgeries or hospitals in the way, for either of us.

12:35 PM

I brace myself as I walk to Izzie's room for lunch, still pretty surprised that I hadn't gotten paged about her being transferred to ICU. I was even more surprised to walk in and find her sitting up and chatting away with Meredith. She looked ten times better than when I had left her this morning. A quick glance at the monitor confirmed that her heart rate was almost normal now, and probably her blood pressure was as well.

"Meredith and Derek made up," Izzie says with a smile, like I actually gave a crap about the relationship status between those two. It changed way too often for me to keep track of.

"Swell," I say with a heavy note of sarcasm. Izzie gives me a momentary look and Meredith shrugs. I set one container of food down for Izzie and then take my spot at the foot of her bed to eat my own. We shared the little tray table as she surprisingly ate her food in small amounts. It was the closest thing we would be getting to a sit down meal for a few days.

"And it looks like Cristina and Hunt are-" Meredith starts to say, but gets cut off by her pager. "911, gotta go," she says and dashes from the room.

"She's doing a heart transplant this afternoon and Cristina is so jealous. It's kind of funny," Izzie says as she takes a decent sized bite out of her mashed potatoes. She giggles as I continue to stare at her. "You wanna stop staring and eat your lunch?"

"You were so sick this morning," I say. It wasn't that I didn't understand how she could get better or that I wasn't happy she was or anything. It was that I had spent my entire morning mentally preparing myself for the state I was about to find my wife in. Now she was sitting up and eating while telling me about the unending drama that followed Derek and Meredith's lives.

"Good thing I'm in a hospital then," she replies, looking her cheery self, but with angry skin and sunken-in eyes. "Alex, would you like me to lie down and be sick again?" she asks, fighting a smile from her face.

I roll my eyes at her and turn my attention to my food. It was hard to handle, people didn't get that, because even when they're getting better you know they're just going to get sick again, and all of that uncertainty was exhausting. I tried to shake it off, remembering my news from earlier. "I have good news," I start and she looks wearily at me now.

"You didn't go and buy a farm this time? Or maybe a third world country?"

"Shut up," I say and she smiles again. She was happy right now, that was good. "I have off Christmas."

"Well technically we've had Christmas off every year, but no one ever takes it so neither do I," she says, irritated from holidays past and others unwillingness to join in. "Wait," she begins again, a slow smile on her face, having bounced back from her agitation moments ago. "Are you telling me that you, Alex Karev, will not work a single minute on all of Christmas?"

"Or for a week and a half before that," I finish and she shoves her tray aside, carefully enough that the food doesn't go flying off as she pushes it away and throws her arms around me.

I laugh at her enthusiasm. "I didn't know you would care quite that much," I say trying hard not to flinch from the way her arms wrapped around me. The last time we'd held each other like this she'd fallen limp and nearly hadn't come back.

"How'd you even manage that?" she asks as she pulls away and lays back against her pillows. A hug had worn her out. That's all it took during her treatments. She was still smiling though, radiant really.

"I asked," I answer simply, shrugging my shoulders as I devoured the lukewarm chicken. I glanced up a moment later to find her eating again, a smile still set on her face.

1:36 PM

"Alright, Hannah," I say as I go in her room. "Time to start prepping you for surgery." Her parents give her small smiles as they kiss her head and pat her hand saying, "I love you" and "see you after." It was nice, her having such a good support system. "Ready?" I ask, and she shrugs.

"Have you done this before?" she asks me as I begin taking her vitals. "Taken out a tumor infested spleen, I mean."

"Well, I'm not doing it myself, that's what Dr. Robins is around for, but yeah I've seen them done a few times." She nods, accepting my answer.

"So...do you always yell the f-word or do I specifically bring it out in you?" I laugh nervously, ashamed that my patient was hearing me like that. It wasn't appropriate, especially not for some kid.

"Sorry about that," is all I say. There wasn't much else I could say, not really. It was crappy behavior and had it been with Bailey I'd probably be writing lines of "I will not curse in front of patients" a hundred times over.

"Hey, it's cool," she says, wincing as I stick a needle in her arm. "I have two stressed out parents and am in the eighth grade. It's not like I don't hear it all the time anyhow." I don't have anything to say after that. I wasn't the best when it came to communicating with teenage girls. "So what has you all angry?"

"I'm not angry," I say, sighing as I think of cancer and hospitals and death. "Okay, maybe a little, but it's not an excuse," I tell her while she closes her eyes and lays her head back on the pillows. She laughs cynically for a second.

"I'm angry that I'm in a hospital with cancer again," she starts, opening her eyes and staring at me, pulling my own gaze in as this little girl spoke. "I'm angry that I fought like hell and I'm sick still. I'm angry that my dad got a job transfer and now I live three hundred miles away from everyone I knew. And I'm mad that I can't do anything about it." She sighs, that same tired sigh I'd come to be so familiar with. It was a tired one, one only adults should have. "Your turn."

I laugh in response, not exactly willing to share all the crap in my life with some kid about to go into surgery. "My wife has cancer," I start, shaking my head as I say the words. I hated those words. "Like you, she has cancer. Only, they don't know if they can get it to go away. They can't take out her spleen and give her some chemo and call it a day. I'm angry that I don't know if she's going to live and that she has to be so sick every day. I'm pissed that I can't fix it even though I'm a doctor and her husband, and I'm mad that her own best friend won't even talk to her and it makes her sad."

She looks at me, tears in her own eyes for god knows what reason and I make eye contact with her again. She kind of smiles, like an understanding one to let me know I'm not alone, and it's absurd, and stupid because she's a kid with cancer and I'm an adult dealing with someone else's cancer. But I can't help feeling grateful that even if I'd talked to some little girl she still seemed to get what I mean.

"Time for the OR."

3:25 PM

"Almost done here, looks like a perfect resection to me," Dr. Robins says as she pokes around for a second more, checking for anything that may have been left behind or could be another tumor forming. We had to open her up because of the tumor, can't do it laparoscopically when you need to fish out a mass of cancerous cells too. "Would you like to close, Dr. Karev?" she says and hands me the tools to being stitching her up. During the surgery I was allowed to do the actual removal of the spleen, which told me that Dr. Robins not only forgave me but also must think I'm a decent doctor.

"Actually, could I?" one of Yang's interns asks. "I was hoping to practice on something more than bananas," he says.

I'm hesitant, knowing I should give up the tools and let the kid do it, only I'd seen his work on another patient and it was pretty messy. For a surgeon the kid didn't have the steadiest hands. I sigh, handing over the tools and stepping back to allow him to do it. I had a wife to look after, I didn't need to be concerned with some other kid who I'd hardly be involved with post this surgery. "Just do a good job," I say and then stand back and watch. I was somewhere between a high from a solo spleen resection and a low from unfortunate attachment with a patient. It was Dr. Robins fault, putting me on a case like this when she knows the condition of my wife. It should have been an assumed reaction, I told myself. Whatever though, I didn't really care.

8:16 PM

"Did you handle the last round okay?" I ask Izzie as I walk into her room. She's still looking decent, but I knew that could change quickly.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, not wanting to talk about the medicine right now. Instead, she holds up a piece of paper that is covered in her bubbly hand writing. It looked like it started out very neat, but degraded into a more hectic list. "What do you think?" she ask and then flips it over to show a diagram on the back. "I don't really know what the place looks like yet so this is a rough sketch, but I can adapt I'm sure."

"You made a diagram for Christmas decorations?" I ask incredulously as I take the paper from her to look it over, shaking my head at her own ridiculousness. "I'm getting you a book."

She grabs it back from me, sending a glare in my direction. "We need to know what we need when we go shopping on Monday," she says, reminding me of the previous shopping commitments I had made. I wondered how Meredith felt about Christmas shopping. "And you aren't backing out of it like you're thinking about doing right now," she includes, sternly.

"I wasn't gonna back out," I lie. Still tempted to ask if going with her friends would really be _that_ bad. I refrain in fear of her response though.

"Good," she says. "Because this is going to be our place now, and, as such, we need to both be apart of decorating it." She looked so proud, so happy as she says that. I have to wonder if she'd spent the afternoon coming up with it.

"I wasn't going to back out," I say again, leaning forward and kissing her on the lips. She kisses me back with eagerness and I suddenly really, really miss having her, a bed, and good health. She pulls away, literally gasping for breath from the lack of oxygen. I can't help but laugh. "I made you 'breathless,'" I joke putting air quotes around the last word.

"Oh shut up," she says as she regulates her breathing. "Did you get yourself a decent case today like I told you?" she asks me.

"Yes ma'am," I respond and she scoots over, grabbing my hand and pulling me to lay next to her. "Well, I resected a spleen by myself today, at least. Arizona helped with the leftover tumor."

She nods tiredly as we lay side by side, both of us kind of squished but not really caring. "Start from the beginning," she instructs and closes her eyes.

"Okay well, once upon a time there were two surgeons. One was an average attending and the other a ruggedly good looking resisdent." She laughs and were her eyes open I swore she would have rolled them.

"Keep going," she encourages, and so I do. Complete with plot twists and a beautiful fair maiden waiting for the handsome man in the next room. I know she's fallen asleep when stops smiling every few seconds and I turn so that I'm facing her, and I watch her sleep peacefully.

I give myself a few more minutes to lay with her before climbing out of the bed, scribbling a note of goodbye as I grab my stuff. I walk to my car and start it, driving out to the trailer and gathering as much as could fit in my car as possible. Thankfully we didn't have a ton of stuff, but I still knew it would be a couple of trips before I was done. Then I still needed to get whatever furniture at Meredith's that she would consider ours and buy the rest.

I shut the trunk, knowing the next time I open it there will be plastic bags of clothes and shoes rolling out. I drive, enjoying the calmness and quiet as I do. My mind relaxes, my body finally releasing some tension after the day. It felt like I'd been running a marathon, never stopping to take a break long enough to regain my strength. I had a job all day to keep me busy and a sick wife who I stayed up all night with whether she was asleep or awake. I didn't know if I could keep doing it, not like this.

I just need to make it to the fifteenth, I tell myself. Just a few more days and then I'd get a break, a real one. Izzie would be feeling better from the chemo and Christmas magic, or whatever she wanted to call it, and I would have no responsibilities in terms of work or anything else. It could just be us, doing whatever we wanted.

I got lost in fantasy land until my pager went off. I didn't think too much of it at first, figuring it might just be them alerting me they were taking Izzie to ICU. Her heart rate had been a little high when I left, even though she had been sleeping. I refused to believe it could be anything worse on her condition.

And it wasn't either of those things. It was my patient, my actual patient. Who, it would seem, was not doing very well because I was getting a 911 page for her. I didn't get it. The surgery had gone perfect. Hannah had seemed great when I checked on her tonight before going to Izzie's room. What had happened since then?

Answers wouldn't be reached until I got there, and so I pressed on the gas just a little harder, hoping to get there before there was nothing I could do.

9:57 PM

"What happened?" I yell as I rush into the room, finding her being held on her side as she seizes violently.

"I don't know," a nurse says. "I just heard her mom start screaming and came in and she was like this so I paged you and Dr. Robins."

Dr. Robins was no where in sight though, probably too busy with her girlfriend's in depth examples to notice her pager going off. "Has she been seizing this whole time?" I ask, it'd been at least ten minutes since I'd gotten the page.

"She stopped for three minutes and then it started again," the nurse reports and I take a deep breath, trying to ignore her frantic parents as they cried.

"Did you give her diazepam?" I ask. She nods, and so I take a second to think. "Phenobarbital then," I instruct mainly to myself as I inject the meds into her IV.

"What's happening?" her mother screams, reaching a hand out to the seizing girl, but a nurse grabs her and holds her back. The father just stands there, frozen and watching. "Hannah!" she yells, desperate for her daughter. It was harder than it used to be, keeping them back, because now I got it, how much you needed to be with them even if you're only in the way. It was distracting, thinking about it.

"Get them out of here!" I bark out when the woman screams out again. The nurses begin pulling them out just as the monitor starts beating erratically. "Her rhythm is tachycardia," I yell. "Someone get the paddles, will you?" We lay her flat and start compressions, the oxygen bag is pulled out. "Come on, Hannah," I mutter as I squirt the gel on the paddles and rub them together. "Charge to 200!"


	3. Chapter 3

Izzie – December 3rd 5:53 AM

"Hey, Izzie," Meredith's quiet voice wakes me as she goes over to the window and pulls open the curtains, letting in the light of the early morning sun. I groan as I roll over, unwilling to awaken after my on and off sleep from the night before. "I'm going to take your vitals and then start your next treatment, okay?" she asks with a total patient-voice on.

"Where's Alex?" I ask, usually he was here when I woke up in the morning if it was before rounds.

"He was paged last night and has been with the patient since, I think," Meredith tells me as she begins the usual morning check up. "How'd you sleep?" she asks, probably noting what was sure to be an exhausted, weary face.

"Fine," I lie. I knew that, as a patient, I needed to answer my doctors honestly on all medical matters and so on and so forth, but as a friend I wasn't in the mood for pitying eyes that seemed to be sent my way so often. "How's George?" I ask. I tried, generally speaking, not to talk about him too much around Alex since, even though he never said much, it seemed to bother him when I did. So I often saved my questions for Mer, or Bailey. I missed him.

"He's good," Meredith says and hangs the next bag for my chemo. "Ate all of my cheerios this morning," she adds, disgruntled. I sigh as I remember the many mornings I spent eating breakfast with the two of them. How normal life had been as we fought over who got to shower and who had to wash dishes. Just three housemates and friends. No tension, no fighting, and certainly no cancer. But then George and I slept together and had a relationship disaster, and Alex moved in, and George moved out...wait, George moved out.

"How is George eating your cereal exactly?" I question, raising my eyebrows. Meredith's eyes get wide for a second, knowing that she's slipped. "I thought he lived with Lexie in his crappy apartment. Unless of course you had sex with him again," I add, now trying to joke. "You and Derek having threesomes, Mer?"

"Gross, Iz," she replies, laughing. "You have spent way too much time with Alex."

I roll my eyes. "I'd hope so considering we're married," I say and just as I do he comes in, looking half dead as he collapses on the chair near my bed. He looks as bad as I do as he lays his head back and sighs.

"Morning, Alex," Meredith says, but he doesn't even look at her. She shrugs her shoulders at me and then walks from the room.

"You look like you need this bed more than I do," I say and reach a hand out to hold his. He doesn't respond to either. "How's your patient?" I ask, worried. I knew he was on peds today, and if he lost a patient it might be harder on him that the older patients. He could pretend to whoever else he wanted that he was some tough guy who didn't care about anyone in the world, but I knew that wasn't true. He didn't connect with patients like I did, but he cared. He cared a lot.

"Alive," he responds. "For the time being, at least." He takes another minute to just sit there and then gets up and leans against my bed and smiles at me. He kisses my forehead and then my bald scalp, I'd removed my scarf last night in my sleep. "How did you sleep?" he asks, making the second person today and I'd only been awake for ten minutes.

"Fine," I say again. "Tell me about your patient," I ask, wanting to make sure he didn't stick with Alex instincts and just say nothing and take it out on everyone around him today because he was upset. I hated when he did that, which was pretty frequent. "You said she was good last night. Was it..." I trail off, having a terrible thought. Was it something that had happened during the surgery? Was there a chance he might have messed up?

"My fault?" he finishes, not sounding as angry as I thought he would have. Nothing like having your own spouse doubt your abilities. "Nah, it's a brain thing."

"Oh yeah?" I ask, trying to keep him talking. He was nonchalant at the moment but I wanted to give him the chance to get worked up if that was what he needed.

"Yeah, she was having seizures last night. They were pretty bad too," he says, shaking his head as if to stop thinking about it. "We did a CT and Shepherd looked at it when he came in."

"And?" I ask impatiently. I hated when he just stopped talking like it was the end of the story when really he'd left out a vital part.

"Her cancer spread," he says, miserably. "She has a tumor." Now I'm the one giving a pitying look as I understand why he's so upset. It was bad enough when she was just a cancer patient. Now she was a cancer patient where it was spreading and taking over her body. It probably held a couple of parallels to him.

"Is she going to be okay?" I ask, knowing how the diagnosis of terminal can hit anyone hard. It was hard to accept as doctors, healers, that you can't do your own job and are literally helpless. Practically doctor assisted suicide as you watch your patient die, keeping them comfortable while they do it.

"Shepherd thinks he can operate," Alex says and kicks off his shoes as he climbs into bed next to me.

"Good," I say, resting against him as he lays down. "Don't you have rounds?" I ask, knowing he probably wasn't supposed to be here right now. Last thing we needed right now was for the only source of income to lose his job. Then we'd definitely be living with Meredith and Derek. Which reminded me, I never did get my answer about George.

"I say Dr. Robins should have to do them," he says and I look up at him questioningly. "She never answered her page so I was here all night dealing with Hannah while she was at home, sleeping soundly."

"Ouch," I say, you were supposed to be able to depend on your attending, hardly were you supposed to be left to deal with a patient on your own if you didn't feel comfortable. "Were you able to handle it okay?" I ask, worried for a second that I might have just bruised his ego with how I had phrased that.

"Of course," he replies. "Now stop talking so I can fall asleep, would you?"

"Uh-uh," I say, pulling myself away from him best I could. "You have work to do before you get napping privileges." He groans in response, pulling me back against him, not roughly, but far too strong for me to fight off. "Alex," I protest. "Go do rounds and take me for a walk later," I instruct.

"You're awful pushy, you know," he says, irritated as he gets up and shoves his feet back in his shoes.

"But you still love me," I say with a smile and he responds the same, leaning in to kiss me goodbye.

"God knows why," I hear him mutter just loud enough for me to hear as he walks out.

8:45 AM

As I vomited for the third time I figured a walk was probably out and pulled another blanket up around me, trying to relax my body and stop shivering. _One more day_ I kept telling myself. _Just one more day._ Tomorrow morning would be my last treatment, then scans and a day and a half stuck in the hospital until I'm strong enough to go home. It could be longer than a day and a half, but I didn't intend for that to happen.

I think of Henry as I lay miserably in bed. Two more months and he'd be free. If his abused, sixty year old body could take it then so could mine. I wanted to call him, since I hadn't gotten the chance to see him yesterday, and I could really use the encouragement of surviving right now.

I was so damn lonely, every day. Either I spent the day laying in a hospital bed with an occasional visitor or doctor, but there was no real consistent company until Alex was off for the night or sometimes Meredith would come sit with me for a couple of hours in between surgeries. And when I was at the trailer I was not only alone, but isolated entirely. I needed to learn how to speak bird if I wanted to have a conversation with anyone out there.

I pick up my phone, the effort of lifting my head to find it and then leaning over to grab it having worn me out itself, and dial Henry's number. I wait patiently but no one answers, leaving me his voice mail. I sigh, not having enough of a point to my call to leave anything.

I sigh, looking around helplessly for something to do. Alex was in brain surgery, Meredith was in the pit today, Cristina didn't exactly like me enough to chit chat, and George hated me, apparently. I was out of people, unless I paged Bailey for company, which I would never dream of doing. I suddenly felt a lot more compassion for the patients who were left alone.

12:17 PM

"Eat and we'll go for that walk," Alex says as I pick through my lunch. I hold up the unfortunate green jello they had given me today. "That you can skip," he assures me, making a face in remembrance of the time I'd made him try it. "In fact, I think we should start a petition to have them stop making that crap before someone actually dies from it."

I laugh at his dramatics. "Should we be calling in the FDA?" I suggest, taking as big of a bite of corn as I could handle. "Tomorrow you're going out and getting me real food," I direct, tired of this hospital garbage.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, chewing around a bite of sandwich. "You used to eat this stuff three times a day, seven days a week."

"And was then rewarded with surgeries and a paycheck," I point out. "It was far more worth it then." I stab my useless, plastic fork through a piece of wilting lettuce, only to have it fall of before even making it halfway to my mouth. "And next time we bring our own silverware." He takes a pen from his scrubs pocket and reaches for my Christmas list, clicking his pen on, prepared to write something. "Whoa," I stop him, holding out a hand for my paper. "What do you think you're doing exactly?"

"Writing it on the list?" he says, sounding confused and surprised, probably at my...enthusiastic reaction. "Shepherd has like, two spoons and a fork. We need it for the apartment."

"Well, it's not going on my Christmas list," I say, making a feeble grab for it again. He looks at me like I'm crazy but as I reach further for it he hands it to me.

"Before you end up falling out of bed," he says as I grasp it in my hand. "It's not like that list isn't total chaos anyhow."

I sigh, and hold it up for him to see. "It is not chaos," I state and with his mouth full he simply runs his hand over the page with a look of conviction on his face, as though that contradicted my claim. "Okay, well it's chaos that makes sense. Look, there are sections so we can get through the store without back tracking too much. And," I say, flipping the paper over. "I have a diagram. That's as controlled as it gets. Even Cristina would be proud."

"You know you're crazy, right?" he asks, taking my list and putting it back on my bedside table, handing me my dumb plastic fork again. I look at him as he holds it out, crossing my arms like a stubborn child and refusing to take it from him. "Fine, eat with your hands. What do I care?"

"Gross, Alex," I say, picking up my retarded fork and trying my salad for the second time. "We better go outside if I eat this," I bargain, desperate to see the outside of the hospital. It was funny, six months ago that was all any of us wanted, to be in this hospital all the time, as much as possible; to work as many hours as our bodies would let us, to be in on as many surgeries as we could. Now I just wanted out, as far as I could get. I was understanding more every day why Denny hated hospitals so much.

"Yeah right, it's like ten degrees outside," he replies, exaggerating again. "And hurry up, I have to be in surgery in an hour and a half."

"Hannah?" I ask simply. I could see how he was getting attached to the young patient, as very un-Alex Karev as it was for him. I was glad he was connecting, in a way, but terrified of the ways he could be connecting and what would happen if his patient didn't turn out okay. Alex didn't heal like I did. It wouldn't be a cry it out and carry on sort of situation for him. It'd burn him from the inside out, make him torture himself until he finally broke, and I for one couldn't handle that right now, and neither could he.

"Yeah, we're extracting the tumor." He has no emotions as he says it, just like it's another procedure. I pray it is because from the sounds of it this wasn't going to be the simplest surgery. "And it'll probably take a while so I won't be back at four when they start your next dose," he says, almost apologetically. I didn't expect him here every time they shot poison in my veins.

"Will you be here tonight?" I ask, remembering his absence last night. I might not mind so much had he been home getting himself some decent sleep. Only he hadn't been, first he was trying to move all of our belongings and then he worked all night.

"You bet. I'm on call so I won't be going far," he promises. "Derek and Meredith said they would go out to the trailer tonight and get what was left of our stuff and put it in the apartment."

"That's nice," I say laying back, feeling too full to take another bite even though I'd only eaten half of the food on there. I blamed Alex, he always brought more food than a normal human being could eat. "They're good friends," I mumble as I scoot down just a little so I'm laying a bit more. "Good friends."

3:30 PM

"Sorry," Meredith whispers as she pokes her head through the door. Her opening it must have woken me as I think I was asleep just a second ago. "I thought you'd be awake. I have a break between surgeries."

I wipe the sleepiness from my eyes and wave her in, yawning widely as I sit up. "What time is it?" I question through my yawn.

"3:30," she says and suddenly I'm a bit more awake.

"Alex," I say, glancing around the room even knowing he's gone. I never got to wish him luck or tell him it wouldn't be his fault if anything happened or give him a kiss, and I never got my walk. I'd have to collect later on that.

"He's in surgery," Mer informs me as she sprawls out on the chair near my bed. "And, not to be rude, but just so you know, you married a real ass."

I laugh, because for so many it was impossibly true. You had to know him, see him for who he really was (which he would hate to hear because it sounds so corny) to understand how he operated like he did, and why. He was a good person, and not because of me like he claimed. He had a good heart, the kind who saw the wounded and sought to help, the kind who cared for someone in a tough spot. I didn't change any of that in him, maybe I brought it out some, but it didn't come from me. It was all him. "He certainly has his moments," I agree, though not with me for awhile now.

"He totally yelled at me today for no reason," she starts. "We're just two friends, having a conversation, and then out no where he just snaps at me." I sighed, because it sounded very much like Alex. Especially when he's stressed. "I'm happy for you two, really, but some days I really just don't understand what you see-"

"Oh stop," I interrupt, cutting her off before she could go on any longer. "Like you've never snapped at anyone who didn't deserve it before."

"Izzie," she tries, sounding apologetic, and I want to accept her apology and move on. Because I wasn't angry, not really, I just was sick of how often I heard them pick on him. George too, like they could never do anything right. I was worried of what she said to Cristina behind my back. Some days they were just vultures, picking us apart.

"He's a good man, Meredith. Just as good as Derek, or Owen, or whoever else you and Cristina consider the best in the world. So shut up with your criticisms already." I breathe, slowly and deeply, trying to calm my irrational anger down. I don't mean it. I really don't. Odds are Alex had earned it anyhow.

"I'm sorry, Izzie," she says sincerely. "I didn't mean to sound so bitchy."

I sigh burying my face in my hands for a second. The anger passed, vanished as suddenly as it hit me. I didn't know if it was because of the chemo or just going mental from laying in bed all the time, but these flair ups of emotion were infrequent, but annoying when they did make an appearance. "No, I'm sorry," I say, trying to laugh at myself. "I was pulling an Alex is all."

She laughs, a little awkward but a laugh still, and we fall back to an easier conversation as she tells me all about her surgery from earlier that day.

4:45 PM

I was laying in bed, miserable and drawing each breath with effort, but I still managed to feel bored. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't watch anymore TV without going crazy and everyone I knew was busy with surgeries and saving lives, whilst I rotted away in a bed. I sighed, annoyed with my own dramatics.

I weakly reached over and grabbed my Christmas list, slightly wrinkled from Alex's antics early today. I flattened it out, looking over the diagram as I thought of other decorations that could be added. I had wreaths, holly, even intentions for a bit of fake snow. I was most excited for the stockings which I hoped we would be able to find an appropriate place to hang. The whole imagery of Christmas became far more exciting when I considered the idea of him being home and there, with me, for the time. It wouldn't be me stranded out in the woods or stuck in a hospital bed.

I didn't mind the cancer, not like I used to, not over the fact of it making me sick and weak. I could handle that for a certain amount of time, I could take it. I hated the strain it brought on my marriage, how I sometimes felt useless and like a wife who's husband stayed with her because she was sick. I didn't want to be that, some pity wife. It just wasn't for me. I knew Alex loved me but everyone had doubts, and sometimes I worried of the ones he could be having. Worst of all, we'd been married a month. We should be like Meredith and Derek, humping like bunnies all over the house, getting rug burns in strange places, but no, I was dying and he was...supporting me?

I wanted to do something for him, because he was spending his life working and taking care of me, it only felt right to give him something in return. I contemplated as I laid there, pulling more covers around me as I felt simultaneously hungry and nauseous. The idea that hit me was sudden, but brilliant, I thought. He had wanted to go take a road trip to visit his mother, he'd said. Only then I had gotten too sick to go to Walmart, so what if I brought his mother to us? He had no work for a week and a half and we had our own place now. It would be an opportunity to meet her as well as spend time with her.

I wasted no time now that I'd concocted a plan. I could see Alex's cell phone, poking out of his jeans pocket from two days previous. He was never very good at keeping it with him, insisting he could just use his pager. I thought it over, curious as to how my body would react to the several steps it would take to get there when I barely felt stable enough to sit up. My blood pressure was dropping again, that much I knew. I want to say "To hell with it!" and get myself out of bed and get his cell phone myself, but there wouldn't be anyone five feet away like there was this morning if I couldn't do it.

So, knowing better than to try and get up myself, I call for a nurse, who takes her sweet time getting here, might I add. I really should mention to Chief Webber how cranky some of the nurses here could be. Maybe they should go on strike again and we should just hire some new ones.

"Yes, Mrs. Stevens?" she asks when she appears in my room, a displeased look in place.

"Dr. Stevens," I correct automatically, which she really doesn't look too happy about. I couldn't help it though, my title was the only thing that I really had left to being a doctor. I couldn't even remember the last I'd done a suture, let alone assisted in a surgery. She doesn't reply to my correction, just stands there with an irritated sneer on her face. I smile at her, used to the unhappy after living with dark and twisty Meredith Grey for five years. "Could you just hand me that phone?" I ask, pointing to the one sticking out Alex's jeans pocket.

She huffs but complies and hands me the device. "Anything else, _Dr. _Stevens?"

"A banana?" I request, still pleasant even though I wanted to punch her in the face. "And a suture kit?" She gives me a look, but I just stare back, determined. If I was going to be stuck in a hospital bed without being able to work for weeks I should keep up with what I could. Maybe I could start going to the research library before treatments, get some source material.

"Of course," she responds and walks away.

"Have a nice day," I call out after her. "Bitch," I finish, for my own satisfaction. I open Alex's phone, going to his contacts and scrolling through, looking for the one that said "Mom" or "Home." I found one, labeled "Iowa" and declared it my best bet. I took a deep breath and pressed the send button, holding it in as I listened to the ring.

"Hello?" a female voice answers, sounding bored. I could hear the sounds of a television on in the background.

"Hi, Mrs. Karev?" I ask, hoping I'd called the right number. I had always anticipated Alex's mom to have an...older voice. This sounded like one belonging to a teenage girl.

"Her kid, actually," she says, surprising me. Alex had never mentioned siblings, in fact he'd hardly mentioned much in terms of his family at all. I knew his father was a druggie, abusive toward him and his mom, but I never knew he had a little sister. Considering we were married you would think the information might have come out at some point. I could hardly hold it against him though. I never had admitted of the child I'd given up for adoption. It brought another fleeting moment of insecurities. How many secrets was our marriage based upon? "Did you want something?" the girl asks after I stay silent. "And how do you have my brother's phone?"

"Um," I start, a bit at a loss as to what I should say. I hadn't thought it out very well after all. What was I supposed to ask. Come visit your brother and his wife even though I didn't know you exist? Hey, come to Seattle for Christmas because I have cancer? It all just sounded wrong. "He's my husband," I answer the second question, finding it easier at the moment.

She's silent on the other end. I hear the TV go mute and wait a moment for her to respond. "You are talking about Alex Karev, right?" she asks slowly, confusion painting her tone.

I wanted to laugh almost. It wouldn't have been humorous though. It would have sounded like a bitter laugh. He hadn't told me about his family nor had he told his family that he had gotten married to me. Was he ashamed of me? Or was it shame of them? I knew how he felt about his family. I would never forget the shame in his eyes the day he had admitted to me that he had once taken care of his mother in the way he was caring for Rebecca. It hurt me to hear, imagining thirteen year old Alex with the responsibilities of the world thrust upon him. My mother had been flighty, irresponsible, and constantly acting like my best friend, but she still remained stable enough to give me dinner every night and look after herself. Did anyone come from a normal family these days?

I didn't know how to respond to his sister. If he didn't want them to know then I could turn back now, deny that I even knew an Alex Karev and must have had the wrong number. But at the same time, I couldn't. It felt wrong to me to deny my marriage with him, even if he had done so himself. "Yes," I confirm.

I hear that bitter laugh I had thought of releasing moments earlier on the other end. "I might not have seen him in six years, but he still could have told us he'd gotten married." It sounds far more like she's talking to herself than to me, so I don't say anything in reply. "So are you calling to be my new big sister or something?" she questions cynically.

"No," I deny quickly, wondering if that was the right answer or not once I've said it. "I just...I wanted to invite you to come visit for Christmas," I finally say, grateful to be done with it. Either she said yes or no, but I'd done my part. "Alex has some time off work and I was just thinking it might be nice for him to have his family come visit since..." I trail off, having gained the feeling of talking to myself.

"This wasn't his idea at all, was it?" she asks, sounding like she is already well aware of the answer.

"It was going to be a kind of surprise," I answer, hoping that doesn't sound like I was going behind his back like she had insinuated in her tone.

"He doesn't even know you're calling us," she concludes and I don't want to confirm so I say nothing at all. "You know what?" she says finally.

"Um, what?" I ask, highly regretting this conversation by now. I had messed up and I knew it. Alex would know it too, and odds were he wouldn't be so pleased since it seemed that whole, visiting his mom thing, hadn't been as legitimate as I once thought. I had figured his mom was better now, his dad not around so it allowed her the chance to heal. Maybe I was wrong though.

"You tell him we're coming. Tell him thanks so much for the invite that we'll totally be there for Christmas to visit his new, clandestine wife." After that she hangs up, leaving silence on my end. I sit with the phone in my hand, not sure of what I should do now and having a feeling this wasn't going to go so well. Shit.

7:03 PM

I twist the blanket around in my fingers nervously, trying to calm my frantic heart rate before Bailey came and yelled at me again over it. I'd been told if it wasn't down by the time they administered my next dose I'd end up in ICU for sure. I wanted to talk to someone, address my concerns, but that would mean talking to George, who currently had nothing to say to me and didn't want to hear anything I had to say to him, so that didn't seem all that likely.

Alex walks in, looking worn but triumphant. I know immediately his surgery has gone well and that he must have just gotten out as he still had his surgical cap in place and he had no food with him. He almost always brought something, trying to keep me eating. He leans over and kisses me hello and I smile at him. "How'd your surgery go?" I ask, forgetting momentarily of my simultaneous anger and fear.

"Long," is his immediate response as he sits on the end of my bed, picking up one of my feet and massaging it. It was things like this that reminded me how caring he was, no matter how many times Meredith came whining to me over him yelling or even when I was faced with the prospect of having to tell him something that could make him fairly angry. "But good. We got the tumor out and she's awake now."

"Good," I say happily. "So how come you've never mentioned you have a sister?" I ask boldly. He stops rubbing my foot and looks at me, then to the phone laying on the bed next to me, and back to my eyes. He didn't look angry, not yet. "And how come she doesn't know you have a wife?"

"What the hell are you doing with my phone, Izzie?" he asks, grabbing it from where it lay. He stares at me, waiting on a response. When he doesn't get one he opens his phone, probably to see who I called.

"I wanted to do something nice," I start off, hoping to point out my good intentions. "I thought with you having the time off and with what you'd said before about visiting your mom well..."

"Well, what?" he demands, standing from his spot next to my feet. "What are you going around telling my mom, exactly? That you have cancer? That you almost died two weeks ago? Or just that I got married and didn't tell her?"

"Alex, I didn't know!" I argue back, frustrated with his anger, even though I'd known it was coming. He was treating me like I'd done something wrong. I hadn't done anything intentionally wrong. "And so what? So what if she knows you married some cancer ridden woman without telling her? Is it that big of a mistake to you?" I want to take it back as soon as I said it. Not because I thought it might upset him, but in fear that he would agree.

"She can't handle it, Iz! Haven't you got that yet? Or are you too busy in your own little world of Christmas decorations and "I Miss George O'Malley" fan club to notice?" He gives a bitter laugh and walks away, leaving me alone in the room.

"You're an ass!" I yell after him before he's made it all the way out the door. Cristina is walking by as Alex leaves and pokes her head in. I can't help it as I feel my heart rate increase from anger and days of destroying my body. She runs in, grabbing an oxygen mask and holds it over my face.

"You know, sometimes I think you just got married for the dress."

10:55 PM

Crying, that's what I've been doing for an hour. I've been puking, and scratching, and crying. And I wouldn't mind the crying as much if I just knew why I was crying. Was it because I was angry or hurt or did I feel guilty? There was a fleeting moment when I feared that Cristina was right. What if I had put on that dress and walked down the aisle just because I wanted a wedding and figured I was dying in a month anyhow? What sort of person would that make me? But it wasn't true, it was Cristina being Cristina and I'd ignored it for five years and I would ignore it still.

Alex hadn't been back at eight for when my chemo was administered. He never showed up with any dinner, and I felt completely estranged from him as I laid around in a bed unable to handle more than a trip to the bathroom.

"I don't like what your heart rate's doing, Stevens," Dr. Bailey says as she looks me over. "Fix it," she demands, both of us pretending it was something I could control. In all actuality, it I calmed down it probably would decrease therefore putting it in my control. In theory, at least. I wasn't going to be calming down because I couldn't right now and maybe no one understood that, but they would just have to deal with it. "Yang said you and Karev had a fight?" she asks, taking on her softer side as she covers me with a blanket, the chills getting the best of me again.

"Something like that," I answer. I try to curl on my side and close my eyes, having determined it late enough to try and sleep, but even after just five minutes I self declare it impossible and roll back onto my back, opening my eyes to find Bailey still standing over me.

"Well whatever it was, you two high schoolers need to work it out so you can relax," she instructs so simply. Maybe if Alex would come back I could talk to him, but it didn't look like that would be happening anytime soon. "And fast, unless you want to end up stuck in here an extra day."

"Seriously?" I ask, wanting to just kill myself at the thought. "I'll be sure to take up yoga, or something," I say. I'd tried yoga before, made it one class before my job was too demanding for me to show up ever again. I had loads of spare time, but none of the strength now. Maybe I would just go for the breathing. It was relaxing to just breathe.

"Whatever something is it better work," she says and finishes scribbling in my chart before putting it back in place. She was in her regular clothes, no scrubs, which told me was on her way home for the night. "Now I, will be back in the morning. And you, will have taken care of yourself through the night so we can give you your last dose and let you start healing," she tells me, straightening the scarf on my head.

"Thank you, Dr. Bailey," I respond, smiling at her. I could see what a good mother she must be. Because despite all of the yelling and lecturing she constantly gave, when you needed it she had the kindest touch. It was exactly like a mothers when you have the flu or if you had a bad day at school. It was nice to have, and I was grateful for it. "Night," I tell her and she responds as she flips off the overhead light and closes the door partway for me.

Now I'd be able to sleep. If only I could stop worrying.

**Thank you all once again for the reviews and alerts! I hope you are continuing to enjoy reading. Also, any critiques or praises on specific areas that you could give would be great. I love to know specifically what people are enjoying in order to duplicate it throughout. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	4. Chapter 4

Alex – December 4th 5:28 AM

"Get up," Bailey demands as the on call room door is swung open harshly. I jolt awake, having been in a dead, dreamless sleep just seconds earlier. It had been glorious, and I was more than a little resentful with Dr. Bailey for waking me up from it. I grumble as I pull my scrub top back on and check my pager, expecting a 911 for my patient but instead finding only a message from Cristina alerting me of Izzie's move to ICU. I felt guilty, I did, but I was in no mood for the guilt so I just channel it all into anger, directed toward Bailey.

"What the hell do you want?" I ask, unable to contain my outward disrespect. I expected violence, beatings, and extreme tongue lashings, but she didn't say anything, just gave me this cold, hard, disapproving glare that made my blood run cold.

"A _lot _of people put up with a _lot _ of crap from you, Alex Karev," she lectures, her tone icy and low, but still menacing. I almost preferred the outright yelling. "But you are responsible for more than just keeping your STDs to yourself now, and she was on her way out of this hospital tomorrow morning had it not been for you stressing her heart out."

"You don't understand-" I start to say, a defense well prepared in my head since I had spent the hours before falling asleep considering all of the ways Meredith or George or whoever would be sharing their thoughts on what happened and how I would respond. I also helplessly thought of how I would apologize to Izzie, because she hadn't deserved what I'd done, no matter my defenses, and I needed to explain my reaction to her.

"I do not _need _to understand anything except your apology to that girl."

"I have rounds," I respond crassly, trying to squeeze by her to the door. She doesn't stop me, surprisingly enough, but probably because she knew I'd never work until I had at least seen her for myself, made sure she was okay. So I set out for the ICU, setting my mind on at least seeing her before I even bothered with rounds. ICU wasn't uncommon with her treatments, but her avoiding it was much preferred. The thought that I'd been the one to place her there made me sick to my stomach. I couldn't help but think of the time I'd seen my own mother in ICU, all black and blue with a tube down her throat because of a collapsed lung. She had been there because of my father.

I knew that this wasn't the same, sort of. I hadn't literally beaten her half to death, but because of the stress my comments had put on her she was laying in that room. Was it really all that different? I feared two things in life. Izzie's death and becoming like my father. Some days I felt like they were two things I could avoid, no problem, but then others they seemed like two inevitabilities crashing down around me. Izzie would die in my arms, or I'd slug O'Malley just 'cause I was pissed, or I'd scream at my wife because she'd made a mistake with good intentions. I didn't know how to handle those days. They seemed so impossible to me.

I come around the corner, walking a few more paces down the corridor before I stop in front of her room. She didn't look terribly different. I still thought she looked better than two days ago, but the machine measuring her heart rate was erratic, unstable.

"You aren't going in there," Meredith says to me when she comes out of the room, standing in front of the door.

"Whatever," I say, trying to appear like I didn't really care when I actually just wasn't sure how much I even wanted to be in there. "She's asleep anyway. It's not like she'd know."

"Oh yes she would," Meredith responds harshly. "Because even if I might think it's ridiculous, Izzie would be going on about negative vibes messing with her cancer healing chemo mojo."

"Izzie doesn't say mojo," I reply vaguely, but smiling ever so briefly at how well I could hear her saying it. "And there won't be any more negative...vibes."

"Listen, Alex," she says, taking a breath like she was inhaling for patience. "I like you, most of the time at least. I know you're not as big of a jerk as you seem, and I know you love Izzie. But whatever emotionally stunting issues you have in that brain of your's need to be figured out. For the sake of all of us."

"Says the girl who was labeled as "dark and twisty" for years because she couldn't handle the pressure of having her boyfriend move in with her," I dig, turning and walking away. I'd confirmed Izzie's health, and was on to working for the day. I had patients who needed my attention far more than a complaining Meredith or a sleeping Izzie. So, with putting thoughts of frantic heartbeats out of my head, I move on to something that at least sometimes made sense. Medicine.

7:36 AM

I walk into the pediatrics ICU, heading straight for Hannah's room. Her surgery had been intense, long, and dangerous, but she had pulled through and was looking pretty great today as I walked through the door to her room. The only way you could tell she'd had surgery in the first place was from the helplessly revealed staples in her head.

Her mom was in the chair, slumped forward so her head rested on the bed where she slept. Her dad was no where in sight, the only indication he had been there was a newspaper, cup of coffee, and tie left sitting on her table. She puts a finger to her lips as I come in, pointing to her mother. I make a show of dramatic tip toeing to her bedside. "Any nausea?" I whisper, checking her surgery sight and setting up some gauze to clean it.

"None, and my head hurts, but only around the wound, which I would imagine is something that is pretty normal." Her mom stirs then, waking up and wincing as she stretches her stiff muscles out. It was a routine I was pretty familiar with myself. "Morning," Hannah says to her, a resilient smile on her face.

"Morning baby," she answers, carefully kissing the top of the girl's bald head as she stands, surveying the room. "Where'd your father go?" she questions critically. "He took the car keys with him too."

"Why don't you go call him?" she suggests, turning hopeful eyes on me to get her mother out of the room.

"I can look after her for a few minutes while you make a phone call, Mrs. Roberts," I say, drawing a smile from my patient's face. She looks dubious at first, looking at Hannah like she might just break apart were she to leave the room. I knew the feeling, like the only way you could assure the one you loved didn't die was if you were there yourself, watching over them. Which, of course, led me to think about Izzie and how she had a heartbeat as stable as a drunk on a balance beam.

"I'll be okay, mom," Hannah assures, patting her mother's hand. She nods, kisses her daughter's scalp one more time and then walks out of the room. "Thank God," Hannah exhales, falling back against her pillows dramatically. "I love my mom, I really do, but she can be exhausting."

"Aren't you a little young to be exhausted by your parents?" I question, going off of what I'd heard from my friends as a kid. I'd heard "pain in the ass" or "impossible" but exhausting was never in the vocabulary for parents to the kids in middle school.

"Aren't you a little old to look like you've slept on a bench and smell life a fifteen year old guy playing video games for a week?" she retorts. That sounded more like an adolescent, total smart ass. "And it's not a bad exhausting. I mean, I get it, she's worried and scared. So I just do what I can to try and make it easier."

"You're a good kid," I say, remembering all of the rude, nasty teenagers we'd seen in the pit over the years. Most of them didn't give two craps over how their parents felt about them.

"Yep, you're turn now."

I really wished this kid would quit that. I sat myself down in the chair her mother had previously occupied, out of things to do that required any actually medical skills and now just stuck here until her mom came back. "I had a fight with my wife," I admit, laughing at myself for sharing this with a thirteen year old.

"About what?" she questions, pulling her knees up to her chest and staring at me with wide, brown eyes, filled with curiosity. She must be starved for a good story if this was interesting her.

"Something stupid," I say because it was better than the alternative of admitting how I had yelled at her for trying to do something nice for me. I didn't even have it in me to admit to this practical stranger about how I felt guilty for landing her in the ICU.

"I thought she was dying?" she reminds me so kindly. "Do you really want to waste time arguing over stupid shit?"

"Hey," I scold. "Thirteen year old girls shouldn't say shit."

She rolls her eyes, very obviously at me. "I'll be fourteen in two weeks and when did you even go to middle school? 1967?"

"Shut up," I say jokingly. I checked my watch and then my pager. Izzie was supposed to be having her follow up scans in a couple hours and I couldn't miss them because I was babysitting. I didn't care if we were having the biggest fight in the world. I wasn't missing her scans. I knew how they terrified her. Both during and after whilst we waited for the results together. I hadn't missed one yet and I wasn't now. Besides, the thought of waiting longer than necessary to hear of what kind of progress had been made didn't seem like much of an option in my mind.

"So are you going to apologize?" she questions, picking up a banana that lay on her tray and peeling it, taking a big bite out of the fruit. I wondered if Izzie had ever eaten anything for dinner last night. Not eating wouldn't do anything to help her low blood pressure. "Because if you really messed up then you should do some sort of grand gesture."

"Grand gesture?" I ask incredulously. I didn't do grand gestures. I asked her to be exclusive by questioning if I could sleep with other women still, I wished her a happy birthday by making a crappy cake, and I proposed by showing up in a tux and taking over someone else's wedding. "I don't do any grand gestures." In fact, I remembered the last time a grand gesture had been suggested to me. I mean, I did fail on the grand gesture portion, but I'd tried something only to be shoved away.

"I don't mean like, confetti and ball gowns," she says, her eyes glassy as she talks. "I'm talking about doing that thing that would make her so happy, even if it takes time out of your day or seems ridiculous. Just thinking about her, and no one else." I raise my eyebrows at her and she picks up DVD cases. "I watch a lot of chick flicks," she says in explanation. "So, grand gesture?"

"I'll think about it," I answer, already doing just that. Because, if I really thought about it, I owed her, like, ten grand gestures at this point. I just didn't know how to do that sort of thing. But I knew Izzie and, according to my new relationship therapist I'd somehow acquired, I just needed to do something that would make her happy. So even if I didn't know grand gestures, I knew Izzie, and hopefully that'd be enough.

9:53 AM

I ran, knowing I had to go from one side of the hospital to the next in ten minutes if I wanted to be there for the many CT scans. Luckily, running through the hospital wasn't an uncommon thing here. Emergencies required running in order to get to them in time. Anyone who'd worked here more than a week knew to move out of the way when someone was coming running. Because it meant they were running off to go save a life. And it would just be rude if you prevented someone from saving a life because you were too lazy to move.

I used that to my advantage as I sprinted through the corridors. I wasn't off to save a life, but the people who moved effectively out of my way hardly needed to know that. I'd gotten sucked into a surgery with Sloan. The procedure was supposed to be a quick and simple skin graft. Things had been messier than anticipated though and it was running over. I had them page Cristina so I could go. Thankfully she hadn't had a better case or she might have just ignored my page.

I see Izzie as I climb the stairs two at a time, being pushed by one intern or another to the CT room. "I'll take over from here," I say, hoping to sound less breathless than I had. I wasn't getting enough exercise these days if this was any indication.

"Alex!" Izzie exclaims, legitimately surprised. She looked worn out, an oxygen mask in her hand in case she needed it, which told me she wasn't doing very well. "They almost didn't do the last treatment of IL-2," she says, and I just about stop pushing the wheelchair to swing her around to talk to me.

"Why not?" I ask whilst ignoring the voice in my ear saying "Your fault. Your fault. Your fault." I knew it was. She'd been stronger till I had gone and gotten her heart rate up and probably made her blood pressure drop. I never made her eat dinner and I hadn't helped her through the night last night. It was undoubtedly my fault. She wouldn't blame me though. That just wouldn't be Izzie.

"They said it wasn't worth the stress it'd be putting on my body. But I told them I could handle it" she answers and looks up a little at me. I wonder if she's thinking the same thing I'm far too petrified to say. Did they not think it was working? Had the IL-2 been declared useless and so they decided to start weaning her off, letting her enjoy any time she might have left. Only carrying on with it after her own personal insistence? My own heart started to race at the thought. They couldn't just be giving up. We signed up for a fight, and I wasn't prepared to be backing down. "I'm scared, Alex," she says and reaches her hand up to grasp around my wrist as I wheel her into the small room. It was weird, thinking how many times it'd been us on the other side.

"Everything's going to be okay," I assure her, and know we were both deciding to forget any silly arguments right now. Because there were things so much more important than that. I help her from the wheelchair onto the machine. I suit myself up, putting on the protective garb so I could stay in the room with her. She aligns herself carefully, laying her head back and raising her hands above her head.

"Ready?" Shepherd's voice asks. So he was waiting here personally for her scans? Probably a favor called in by Meredith.

"Yeah," I say just as she answers "yes." I give her a small smile as the machine pulls her face out of my view, leaving me to stare at her lower half as the whirring begins. I consider apologizing, but know that now is not the right time. Right now was about her though. Comforting her, being there for her, not about my own guilt or any silly arguments. It was funny, we had fought over the idea of my mother coming to visit, but I had hardly had a second thought for that all day. All I could think about was the fight itself, not what it was over. I knew I'd be relenting, although I doubt we would have the chance to back out now even if we wanted to.

"Have you eaten?" I ask, remembering that this morning the breakfast was supposed to be oatmeal and how she detested oatmeal. "I can go pick you up something from Joe's after," I offer.

"Meredith brought me a bagel after I woke up this morning," she says. I watch her foot move back and forth in nervousness. I grab it, steadying it between my hands. I begin massaging it as I had done yesterday, before the whole incident.

"Did you actually eat it?" I ask, knowing how she liked to pick. No one answers me after a few moments and I figure that's my answer right there. "Okay, I'll just go to Joe's and get you something after this." I wasn't about to say anything about her not eating this morning or last night, I blamed myself for that, but I would look after her now. "So what do you want?" I ask, and it's then that I know something's wrong. "Izzie?" I try, hoping for some sort of response. I let go of the foot I'd been massaging and watch as it slumps down to the table.

"Dr. Stevens?" Derek asks over the intercom. Still no answer from her. I waste no time in pushing the button to pull her out of there, feeling like the machine was moving intentionally slow. Derek comes rushing into the room, along with the shaggy haired intern. I waste no more time on the damn switch as I grab what I had of her and pulled her out, laying her on the ground. I grab the oxygen mask and place it over her nose and mouth, hoping to see the condensation of a released breath as Derek takes her pulse.

I sigh the biggest sigh of relief when I see it, leaning forward and resting my forehead against her's for a second. "Quit doing that, would you?" I ask her unconscious form.

"I-I don't know what happened," the intern starts to say, but I hold up a hand to stop him.

"It's her low blood pressure," I conclude on my own. "Because no one else in this hospital can seem to give a crap if she eats but me!" I yell, as a nurse comes in with a gurney to transfer Izzie back to her room. "Can I not leave her for an hour without someone screwing something up around here?" I demand, picking her up and laying her on gurney myself, pulling the strap to the oxygen mask over her head to hold it in place. I snap all of the cords we'd disconnected for the CT back into place on her central line.

"Stop yelling," she mutters as she pulls her mask down. I replace it immediately and begin pushing her bed back toward her ICU room.

"Stop dying," I retort, sighing heavily to hold back anything else that might want to come out. May it be words, or tears, or angry slurs, they needed to be restrained until she was back where she belonged. The doctors and nurses part just as easily for me now as they'd done when I had been running earlier. I could feel their stares on me as I pushed her. I knew they were "oh poor Alex," stares, but I really didn't care much. My focus was currently on the woman on this stretcher.

"Sorry," she murmured, removing the oxygen mask again, but only for a second this time so I have no chance to put it back on. Gratefully, considering I had no hands to do so. We're back at the ICU shortly and she insists on moving to the bed herself, climbing in gingerly. I waste no time in placing the cords back on her chest in order to keep track of her vitals.

"I just got the page," Dr. Bailey declares as she enters the room, taking one look at Izzie and shaking her head. "I'll start the saline drip," she says as I lower the hospital bed to allow Izzie to lay flat. She makes a face as I do so, she didn't like being fully reclined during the day, as she often told me. I switch out her oxygen mask for her nasal cannula and she smiles at me as I do. I spot a banana out of the corner of my eye, and as I walk over to grab it I notice the black, sloppy stitching in it.

"I can't even do a simple stitch anymore," she sighs, obviously on the verge of tears from her current, very fragile state, of emotions.

I pick the stitched banana up and throw it in the trash can as I go and sit next to her. "Your hands aren't steady right now," I tell her, picking one up in two of mine and holding it. "From the chemo." I got it though, why she felt so ashamed. It wasn't all that long ago I'd stood frozen in a broken down elevator as O'Malley performed a single handed open heart surgery. I could have come up with a million good excuses as to why I froze, but when people stared or you heard the nickname "ice block" it didn't really matter. Not to mention the shame you feel in yourself for the failure. As a surgeon, failure generally wasn't accepted. Not by the hospital's standards, or your attending's, or your own stubborn expectations of yourself.

"So are we talking about before yet...or?" she stops, letting me fill in the rest.

"Not yet," I say, because I had a thought in mind as to how I could make it up to her, and I wanted to get the chance to do it. "Just rest and we'll deal with it later." I lay my forehead against her's placing a kiss to her lips and then her scalp. She took in a heavy breath, letting it out slowly. I thought of how the stress had put her here in the first place and thought of another thing to add. "I'm not mad, Iz. We'll just, talk later."

By now the other people have cleared out, having set her up for the next couple of hours. I have things to do, patients to check on, and even a surgery to scrub in on. Right now though, I take a minute to spend in relief as I lay with my wife in my arms until she drifts off to sleep.

God this was exhausting.

1:34 PM

"Alex!" O'Malley calls out to me as I stand after I finish my conversation with Dr. Hunt as we leaned against the front desk. I wanted to walk away from this bumbling idiot who had once been the one Izzie had chosen over me. Not to mention his just general annoying presence. The guy set my teeth on edge, and originally I might have put some effort into being nice just because Izzie pretty much begged me. Now he was an ass to her though, so I had every right to be an ass to him.

"What do you want?" I ask gruffly, not even bothering to turn around and face the guy and staring intently at the chart instead. I hated to admit that I actually sort of cared to hear whatever he might have to say, which is why I didn't just walk away and actually read the pages in my hands.

"I was just-I knew Izzie had her scans today and I was wondering..." he fades off, trying to stand in front of me and meet my eye. Only I kept my body against the desk and eyes on the chart, causing such a thing to be impossible for him. I enjoyed watching him make such an effort though. "I just wanted to know how they turned out."

"She passed out in the middle of them so we never got any results. You'd know that if you ever bothered talking to her," is what I want to say to him, but I don't. Instead, I finally do look up, meeting him right in the eye and standing at my full height so I stood several inches taller than him. "Ask her yourself," I reply, using all the strength I had in me to walk away and leave it at that. He needed to get over whatever crap he was dealing with and talk to Izzie. Both for my sake and her's. I couldn't stand her sad "I Miss George" eyes any more and, well, she just legitimately missed him.

I walk with purpose away from the guy, focusing on what was in front of me and at not biting his head off, like I really wanted. "Dr. Karev," Dr. Robins stops me as I move quickly through the hallways. I pause, looking at her expectantly as I waited for her to say something. "I have a bowel obstruction in twenty minutes if you'd like to scrub in with me?" she offers and I nod, changing my direction and walking back toward her.

"Sure," I say, grateful that my attitude from Hannah's surgery hadn't offended her so greatly that she no longer wanted me on her service. If anything she seemed pretty persistent on having me around. I was glad, because were she not paying me such special attention I could easily fall into doing routine clinic work or sutures in the pit, because they were easy and thoughtless, and that was what I needed right now. But surgery brought out the challenged, driven part of me, and I grasped that to help me get through the days.

7:22 PM

The beeping of the machines as I lay my head on the side of Izzie's bed were driving me crazy. She was out cold and I was waiting, patiently, for her to wake up. I'd stayed updated throughout the day on her condition which had seemingly improved after one minor scare after lunch where she'd had some issues with her breathing. The scans had been scheduled for tomorrow and I was dubious of Izzie being discharged then, but I knew she would still be pushing for it to happen. If, for no other reason, than to go buy her damn Christmas decorations.

Her heart rate was normal as she slept and her blood pressure had risen, after our preventive measures had been taken. I'd come at dinner and dropped her off something to eat, then quickly dismissed myself with a kiss and an excuse for surgery.

Meredith walked in, her regular clothes on and purse in hand, clearly ready to leave for the night. "Is she better?" she asks, picking up the chart at the end of her bed and scanning it. I knew she was probably still mad at me for how I'd yelled at her the other day. Of all people though, I was sure she understood to a certain degree. Didn't girls talk a lot? I was sure Izzie had explained her whole psychological profile about me to Meredith by this point.

"Yeah, yeah," I say my head still dazed from the events of today. I was about ready to just collapse. I had to say, even if I didn't think Izzie should go home tomorrow I couldn't say I would mind it. To lay down together in our own bed would be pretty amazing. Although, first that would require buying a bed and then assembling it. Which meant we'd be stuck in the trailer for a few more nights as we got everything together. Despite our lack of personal possessions, moving was still a lot of work. I knew she needed to be apart of the selecting process. It was our place, not Meredith's, or Shepherd's, or mine. It was ours, so it needed to be...ours. "Can I talk to you outside really quick?" I ask, standing from my fateful post at Izzie's bedside.

Meredith looks at me strangely but follows me out of the room. "Is she not okay?" she asks, her voice a little higher than usual. She sounded panicked at the thought.

"She's good," I say quickly, knowing how you needed someone to send away your fears before you could dwell on them any longer. It was a downward spiral of concerns as every thought became scarier and scarier. "She's gotten better now that the effects of the chemo have worn off. I wanted to talk to you about George, actually."

"George?" she questions. "He's been pretty absent lately. I haven't talked to him much in the past few days, and...we both know how he's been toward Izzie." She shrugs, and Derek comes up behind her and kisses her cheek.

"Hey," he says happily to her. He looked exactly as I'd felt a few short months ago. Happy, careless, fulfilled in every area of his life that he could possibly imagine. I'd seen me and Izzie like that not too long ago. Once I had made her so ecstatically happy that her Denny fantasies faded away, and I could figure out how to be what she needed. But then there was cancer, and brain tumors, and the thoughts of forever stolen away from me, and now I knew most days I probably looked like the total opposite of Derek. Plus, I didn't exactly have the hair either. "Hi, Karev."

"Hey," I respond, sort of nodding in his general direction. "Just, if he asks you anything about Izzie, don't tell him, okay?" I ask Meredith.

"I guess, yeah. What is this about?" I shake my head, looking back to Izzie who was stirring awake. I glance quickly back toward the nauseatingly happy couple who both looked confused and dismiss them quickly.

"Thanks, I gotta go," I say and walk back to Izzie's room. I wondered momentarily if apologizing would have been considered a good idea after what happened with Meredith. I didn't find it directly necessary though, as I had someone far more important to explain myself to.

She looks at me with tired eyes, and wastes no time in shifting her bed up. I sit at the foot of her bed, taking the envelope I'd had sitting on her table and twisting it in my hands. "Hey," she says, smiling at me.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, reaching a hand out to slide across her face. She presses her cheek into it, resting it on my hand and then turns her head to press her lips to it. She swallows heavily and takes in a lungful of air.

"Much better," she answers and pulls my hand into her grasp, squeezing it tightly. "Strong, aren't I?"

I chuckle, as we both knew how feeble it actually was in comparison to how she used to grab my hand. The way she'd grip on to me as we would roll around in bed in the middle of hot, passionate...now was not the time, Alex. "I think you just cut off my circulation." She laughs in reply and gives my hand a tug and dragging me down next to her, placing us into our usual position on the bed. I wrap an arm around her and she curls against me, using my chest as he pillow.

"I know you said before that you didn't want to talk about it, and I get that about you, I really do, but I can't just not find a way to resolve it because I'm really sorry, and I want you to understand that I wasn't trying to go behind your back or do anything that would upset you. Completely the contrary, really-" I cut off her rant, knowing she had to be getting low on oxygen anyhow, and press a long kiss to her lips.

"You don't get to apologize," I say, sighing as I remembered my jerk-like reaction to her yesterday. "I didn't mean it, you know," I start in explanation. "I just...I don't like the idea of a surprise family visit like that, and, instead of talking about that like I should have, I just kinda..."

"Pulled an Alex," she finishes for me, smiling widely. "It comes with the territory of being married to you."

She was too forgiving. I didn't want to just let it go though. It would make this all seem like it was okay, no big deal, and maybe it wasn't the end of the world, because people fight, especially married people and we were two people sure to do it many times again.

"I don't like my family, you know that. And it's not that I don't want to see them. It's that my mom, she's not the strongest person, and all of this," I say, gesturing between the two of us. "It takes a lot of strength..."

"But you said you wanted to go visit your mom, let me meet her. Only then I went and got sick and so we couldn't exactly travel to Iowa. So I just thought I would invite her to come visit us, kind of make it up to you. I didn't know it would be so bad for her," she explains, still defending herself against me.

"I know, Iz. I'm not saying it was wrong, it's just that I mean, it's been a really long time for a reason and the idea of seeing them it was...it was..." This wasn't going as well as I'd hoped. I wasn't someone who did big speeches or apologies, or explained their feelings. I didn't do feelings in general. So instead I just thrust the envelope in her hand. She looks at me questioningly but opens it, turning it upside down and dumping the contents into the palm of her hand.

"Pictures?" she asks, holding up several Polaroids. A smile spreads across her face as she realizes what they are. "Are these of our apartment?" she asks, a knowing look on her face.

"I figured if you were stuck in here for any longer at least you could make your diagram a little more accurate, or whatever," I shrug, still thinking it was stupid but knowing how it pleased her. I didn't do this shit for myself, I did it because it made her happy, and so even though I didn't understand it in the least, it was totally worth it.

"Get my paper?" she asks, and I reach over to the bedside table, handing her the well used piece of notebook paper. And so we lay there, discussing things like where to hang stockings and how wide of a tree we wanted. It could be the most mundane conversation I'd had all day, but the enthusiasm in her voice and the life in her eyes brought a new direction to the conversation, one that made it totally, and utterly fascinating.

**There we go, that argument wasn't so terrible, was it? I hope their make up sufficed for you. Thanks again for all of the reviews! I wish I could respond to you more personally. I know these updates are long, and I hope that's okay with everyone still. It's a lot every day, to read as well as write, but if you are all still okay with it I'll keep up with my extensively long chapters. See you all tomorrow!**


	5. Chapter 5

Izzie - December 5th 8:33 AM

It was Sunday, and the best thing about Sunday was the fact that resident's were not required to attend work until ten. Meaning, we got a whole extra four hours to lay around and do, essentially, nothing. In Alex's case that meant sleep, for the most part, and considering how much I had improved now that my chemo was finished, he was actually able to do that. They had moved me back to a regular room last night, before we'd fallen asleep, and so far today my main problem was what I had grown accustomed to living with; no appetite, body aches, feeling restless but being unable to do much of anything, it was just routine now.

Last night I had made excellent use of my Polaroids as I explained, in detail, to Alex (and really, mostly myself) how I wanted to decorate the area. I had decided on where to hang the mistletoe, even. Alex had created a debate over how unnecessary it was to hang mistletoe in a house where just the two of us lived and could kiss whenever we wanted without a plant dictating when. I then persuaded him with the idea of different activities taking place under the mistletoe. Personally, I was desperate for some different activities anywhere, at least mentally I was. Physically I was pretty okay with the gentle kissing and hand holding because I was so weak. That mental part of my brain was starting to think it was time to disregard that, though.

"Dr. Stevens?" my oncologist says, knocking twice on the door and then poking her head in the room. "Oh good, you're up." I gesture to the still slumbering Alex next to me who hadn't even stirred with her entry. I sometimes wondered how he stayed awake in surgery. Especially if it was a procedure where he was standing there holding a retractor or operating the suction. Even when I was totally healthy I had a hard time with that. "You might want to wake your husband up too," she suggests.

The rush of worry hits me like a wall of bricks. You didn't need to wake up family members for good news, did you? Only the bad. I wished he wasn't here, that he was out on rounds or in surgery. That way I could get the bad news, digest it, and be prepared to tell him when he got here. I knew he feared my death more than I did, so I needed to keep a brave face on for him as much as possible.

"Alex," I whisper, nudging him with my elbow lightly. He jolted up, just like he always did, and always had. I'd been thrown on the floor more than once in his reacting to his pager. Now he always wrapped an arm around my waist as he sat up though, probably because he was waking up to react to me, expecting me to be dying, or puking. "The doctor wants to talk to us," I explain, hoping to erase the frantic look on his face. It kind of just makes it worse for a second, as he mostly had the same thought process as me, and then levels out, becoming an excellent "Alex Doesn't Care About Anything" face. I kiss him good morning to change it to a slightly happier one.

The doctor sits down in a chair next to the bed, facing both of us. I expect Alex to get up and at least sit at the foot of my bed, but instead he just stays there with me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly, I gripped it back and placed my other on top. We were scared.

"I wanted to talk about your treatment plan," she says and I pause, breathe, and stare at her in a confused manner.

"Is this one not working?" Alex asks, registering her words more quickly than I did. They weren't as dire as we had anticipated.

"On the contrary, we haven't gotten her most recent scans, but the one's before all looked extremely good," the doctor says, looking at some papers in her hands. Probably the results of my scans from last month. "However I think we need to work something else out."

"But why?" I ask. "If this one is working so well, why go and change it?" I still didn't entirely believe her that it was working as well as she claimed. Didn't doctors sometimes lie to patients? To keep up their resilience and all, or smudge the truth at least. I appreciated Alex's insistence for telling his patients the truth a lot more now that I was in the patient position myself.

"Because it's practically killing you, Izzie," she says, using the tactic of relating with her patients by using my first name while talking to me. I wondered if all patients noticed that sort of thing, or just the ones who had been trained to do it themselves. "If we keep at this pace, with your body this weak, I'm afraid of what it's going to do to your heart. We hardly need to stress it out so much that we start harming it as well."

"I just had surgery though, two weeks ago," I remind her. I knew medicine, and even if you only operated on one part of the body it was one vessel, so the whole body was effected. "I was already weak from that."

"Yes, but if we keep with this treatment at this pace you'll just keep getting weaker and weaker until you have set up a permanent residency in the ICU on a pace maker and dialysis." I sighed, knowing that I needed to submit to what she was suggesting and set up a new treatment plan. "I would advise we take a look at your scans later today and go from there," she says, giving us a tight smile.

"Okay," Alex says, nodding. He looked like I felt. We weren't expecting this, being told that, even if my treatment might be saving my life, we might have to find a way to keep me alive from itself. It was irrational, but I felt weak, useless; that I should be able to control my body better and make it strong enough for the chemo.

"Seriously?" I say once the doctor has left the room. I was going for exasperation as opposed to depression.

"I'm getting coffee," he mumbles, extracting himself from me. "Want anything?" He rubs his hands over his face and stretches his muscles out. I'm sure sleeping in such a crammed space all night made him awfully stiff.

"Discharge papers," I request with a small smile on my face. It wasn't good news we'd gotten, but I guess a "you're dying" prognosis would have been worse.

"You're going to have to talk to Bailey about that." He bends down and kisses me lightly. "Brush your teeth while I'm gone, would you?" he says and I roll my eyes, but do a quick breath test on myself once he leaves and can't help but make a face.

Getting out of bed and being productive actually sounded like a great idea. Also an excellent way to persuade them to let me out of here considering how much better I'd probably end up looking. And so it is with that thought that I pull myself out of my lumpy, uncomfortable hospital bed and begin the long process of getting myself ready.

9:05 AM

I've brushed my teeth, showered, and even put on some makeup when I start my final task. I was worn out, just by those simple things, and so I knew the effort of getting my clothes on would not be an easy one. I tried to deny the fact that the world was spinning, as well as the weak feeling in my legs as they began to shake. _I can finish this. _I tell myself, because it really was a simple, basic task. A two year old could do it, so could I.

It's with that determination that I open the duffel bag that we'd brought when I was first checked in and pull out the clothes I had planned on being discharged in. I walk into the bathroom, dragging my IV pole with me, to give myself the privacy to change my clothes. Jeans and a sweater with a bra weren't anything special, but after spending four days in pajamas and hospital gowns it felt like a full on ball gown. I start with the easy part, unzipping my jumper and sliding it off my shoulders, then removing my tank top, leaving me bare chested. I pull my bra on and then attempt to hook it in the back, only my hands were suddenly shaking so much that they couldn't even find each other, never mind a clasp.

I take it off, sitting on the closed toilet cover and taking a deep breath as I flex my wrists. I clasp it while it's still off, watching my hands so that I can slide the two parts together, and then pull it over my head like a shirt. I shook my head at myself. It shouldn't be that long of a process.

Next came the sweater, which was simple enough. I didn't even bother standing up as I pulled it on over my head. Then I stood, standing in front of the mirror. I couldn't help but notice the great amounts of weight I'd lost since this had all begun. The sweater hung on me like it had been stretched out by a taffy puller. Even my breasts were smaller, I was pretty sure, as my bra fit looser than before. The drugs were sucking the nutrients from every part of my body.

The final step was the jeans now. I didn't doubt they would be half falling off me, but I was sure Mer or Cristina would be willing to lend me a belt if I was discharged today. I slip off my sweat pants, revealing my legs to the chilly air around me. I stand on one leg, lifting the other slowly to pull through the leg hole. Somewhere along the way I must have lost my balance and fallen though, as, next thing I knew, the world was not only spinning, but suddenly crashing. I try and reach out to grip the counter, but I can hardly tell which way was up and which was down as I fall face first into the linoleum below.

9:21 AM

"Izzie. Izzie. Izzie!" I hear someone yelling my name over and over again. It's annoying because my head already hurts so much, and I just want to yell at them to shut up, but I can't seem to find my voice just yet. It was so cold where I was laying. If it was a bit softer I might not mind as much as I do. "Izzie, open your eyes," the voice demands. It didn't sound like Alex, otherwise maybe I would. Because if it was him he'd be worrying irrationally, but whoever this was was a doctor who wasn't my husband. They would think more logically, realize I just had a headache. "I need some help in here! Izzie, please." the voice pleads again and so, just to get it to stop, I open my eyes.

The light hurts, so I squint them shut again and let out a groan. My whole head felt like it was filled with a percussion band. "It hurts," I mumble in explanation.

"Oh my god," I hear someone say. "Okay, no one touch her, we need to secure her neck first." I know what that means. I'm a doctor so I know what that means, and I didn't particularly like it. I wasn't about to wait for them to run a bunch of tests, so instead I just focus on lifting my leg. It's weak, just like it always is these days, but it goes up easily, like a body part is supposed to move. I know I'm still going to X-ray though so I'm not surprised when the neck brace is strapped on. "Someone page Shepherd and book an OR!"

"Izzie, are you okay?" George, the voice is George, asks. It had been so long since I had last heard it, that I had almost forgotten the sound of it. "What happened?" he sounded concerned, my foggy brain picks up on that much. I'm about to answer when the sound of footsteps and wheels interrupts me. They slide a board under me, to move me to the gurney, I realize.

"On my count," a different voice, also familiar, but less so, says. "One. Two. Three." On three I get the sensation of effortless movement, it sent butterflies through my stomach, almost like a roller coaster.

I finally open my eyes, trying to put all the faces and voices together, also to see where I was going. I ignore the stabbing pain from the light as I lift my eyelids, staring straight up at the ceiling. I dart my eyes around, shifting my vision as much as possible. As well as George I see Hunt, one of the older nurses, and Bailey. They all look concerned and determined as they wheel me forward. I feel someone pressing on my head and I wish they'd stop. It ached enough without all the added pressure.

"Did someone page Karev?" Hunt asks, looking me in the eye. "It's going to be okay, Izzie," he says strongly to me. I didn't understand why it wouldn't be. I fell, it wasn't the end of the world. We got patients who fell all the time, and we stitched them up and sent them out no problem.

"She's losing a lot of blood!" Cristina yells out, and it hurts my head.

"Would you all stop yelling?" I ask, irritated with them. It wasn't like they weren't right next to each other.

"Izzie, can you hear me?" George asks, and if I could I would probably smack him. Hadn't I just asked them all to quiet down? Obviously I wasn't having trouble hearing.

"Yes," I answer instead, because smacking really wasn't an option at the moment.

"Tell me what happened," he demands, and I don't understand why it was so urgent. Now that I thought about it, were they wheeling me around the hospital in just my underwear? Because that was pretty mortifying.

"I tripped getting into my jeans," I explain. I felt it was a fairly obvious situation considering how they'd found me. "It was just a little fall," I say, trying to get them all to relax some. All this tension was making black spots show up in my vision.

I feel a hand grasp mine, it's smoother than Alex's, and the grip isn't that same tight, urgent one that I was used to in these situations. I assumed that it must be George. He used to hold my hand a lot. Now he would hardly even look me in the eye. I grip his hand back with as much strength, encouraging him to keep it there. "I miss you," I say sincerely. Did he not think I needed him anymore? Because I did, everyday I needed my best friend.

"It's going to be okay, Izzie," he responds and I wish people would stop saying that. I didn't doubt it would be okay. They push me into an elevator and I see Lexie out of the corner of my currently restrained vision.

"Hi, Lexie," I say, smiling as brightly as I could. "Are you studying hard for your boards? That test is a real bitch," I say, chuckling to myself because I _want _to say, "Just ask George," but even if he has been a jerk, I can't do it. I still remembered how self conscious he'd been on the whole issue.

The elevator dings and the doors open, and we're moving through the hallways again. I can tell by the direction we're moving and the colors of the walls that we're close to an OR...which meant I needed surgery.

"What did I do?" I ask George by am interrupted.

"Izzie!" Alex yells, just like the rest of them, and I hear his loud footsteps rushing to me. "What the hell did you do now?" he asks, sounding legitimately angry, but I know from personal experience that he was really just terrified. I reach out for his hand, dropping George's in the process. He grabs it, holding on while we continue to move forward.

"She fell when getting on her pants," George answers and I'm surprised when Alex doesn't immediately snap back at him, because that was what Alex did when he was scared, he snapped. Plus he already hated George.

"You idiot," he says to me.

"You can't come any further, Alex," I hear Derek say. I wonder if Meredith is with him too or if Cristina was scrubbing in on this surgery. I also wondered what kind of surgery I was having, when you know all about every operation out there, it was the kind of thing you considered.

"Hi, Derek," I say, hoping to display I was quite okay.

"Someone go get two units of blood!" Cristina yells, clearly ignoring my request from earlier. I swear, if she hadn't saved my life I would probably hate her right now.

Alex kisses my hand and then leans himself over into my line of vision. "You're an idiot, and I'll see you after," he says, and he looks worried, I can't help but notice.

"Go take care of your patients until I wake up," I direct him as he becomes a black spot in my vision. I'm glad that I'm laying down already or else I probably would have fallen all over again a couple of minutes ago. "I love you."

He squeezes my hand again, and he must then step away because we're rolling into the OR room. They move me quickly to the surgical table and it feels like the whole Earth is shifting. I want something to steady me, but I don't have to worry about it much longer since between my already diminishing brain function and the now activated anesthesia mask I had maybe three seconds before I was out. My eyes land on George, who finally doesn't look angry or awkward, as I fall asleep.

6:38 PM

I had become far too familiar with that groggy, anesthesia induced, post-op haze as you begin to awaken. I never did like it, it made you feel like you need to sleep more even if you'd been sleeping for days. I take a deep breath, and try and open my eyes, hoping to avoid the unpleasant feeling of the last time I'd done so only to be near blinded by the lights.

"Izzie," I hear George say. He comes and stands next to my bed. He's the only one here right now, which was strange because Alex practically had a vigil by my bed each time I had surgery. I faintly remember directing him to work until I'd woken. How long had I even been out for?

"I'm at Seattle Grace Hospital. I had brain surgery because I fell earlier today, and I ate a bagel the past two morning for breakfast," I answer before anyone could ask. Had I been awake long enough now to rule out short term memory loss too? Never had Alex been so panicked, I don't think. Cristina had told me all about his intensive therapy techniques as he did all he could to help me. I was starting to think I should just rip up that DNR. After all, it's not like they intend to abide by it. I didn't want a life as a vegetable, but I believed Alex would at least pull the plug for me. I gave him that much credit. "Oh, and I've lived in Washington my whole life."

His face comes into focus once I stare at it for a minute. He looks...guilty maybe? I can't say it'd be an inappropriate emotion considering what he'd put me through these past few months. "I'll go get a nurse," he tries to dismiss himself and starts walking away.

"You're going to talk to me George," I order, not that I could do much if he defied me, but it was an order nevertheless. "You're my best friend and you're going to talk me, alright?"

"Izzie..." he starts, fading out already. He grabs my hand, my dried, cracked hand, and holds it in his. It didn't feel like an intimate move, not the kind of hand holding Alex and I did where we were holding on to each other for life and love, but just a supportive grasp. "I can't."

I laugh in his face, literally laugh, although it comes out kind of strangled and broken. "You can't?" I ask incredulously. "Oh, go to hell, George. I get it, okay? I'm poor broken Izzie. You can't touch me or I might fall to pieces, but can't you at least look me in the damn eye?" I heard the machine reporting my increasing heart rate and take a deep breath, calming it. Holly leaves, stockings, Christmas lights, I go through the list in my head as I closed my eyes and imagined the apartment lay out. It was my new tactic, for calming myself when I got stressed. Were George not holding my hand he could have walk away moments ago without me even realizing it.

"I want to. I really do but..." He was a coward, I finish in my own head. He was an idiotic, lonely, coward. Bambi, is what we called him. Only his mom wasn't shot by a hunter, but his dad by cancer and his best friend by the same. Suddenly guns might not seem so scary.

"Ms. Stevens?" a nurse comes in, causing George to step away. I kind of want to correct the nurse, in a very rash manner since she must know who I am. I mean really, was I that forgetful of a person? "Ms. Stevens, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I groan. "Someone page my husband, would you?" I ask, looking to George since I was hopeful Alex would react more quickly to a number he knew than one from a nurse.

"She's been responsive and alert for about five minutes," George says, and no one answers me about Alex. "Seems entirely lucid and hasn't complained of any pain." I wanted to hit him, literally, physically hit him. The recent brain surgery was all that restrained me. Maybe I wouldn't want to hit him so badly if he was still George. In fact, I wouldn't have any desire to physically attack him if he was still the best friend I'd known. I would defend him and love him and we'd talk through this awkward phase we were dealing with. But no, he wasn't the George I knew. So I wanted to punch him.

"I swear to god, George, if you don't page my husband..."

"I already did, miss," the nurse says as she takes my blood pressure. "How are you feeling? Light headed at all?"

"This is my third brain surgery in six months," I remind her, hardly believing it myself. "And I'm here for intense chemo every month for four days. I'm always light headed." I tried to sit up, ignoring any sense of pain or discomfort as I search for Alex. I was agitated, restless. I knew I shouldn't feel like this, if for no other reason than it was poor for my health, but I just couldn't seem to help it. "And it's Dr. Stevens, for the last damn time."

"Iz?" Alex asks tentatively as he enters my room. I wondered if he'd heard my irritated tone and was watching out for his own sake now. He shoots George an angry glare, utter ice in his stare. His eyes are all warmth as he looks to me though. He smiles at me as he comes to stand near my bed, taking my free hand. George lets go of the one he'd been loosely hanging onto, like he couldn't touch me if I was connected to Alex at all.

Alex's fingers lift the bandage lightly on my head, checking my surgical sight. It wasn't a pretty sight, I was sure. "I was a little stupid," I admit to him, and he shakes his head, taking my face between his hands.

"You were the biggest moron ever," he agrees and kisses me like not a single other person existed in our room. I get lost in it for a minute, until I pull away in order to breathe. "I swear if you don't stop doing this..." he starts and trails off. I'm shocked at the tears in his eyes. I'd seen him cry before, but the fact that he was letting his defenses down now, in front of people like George and a nurse he'd probably once slept with, that said something. I place a hand against his cheek, running my thumb along it.

The nurse clears her throat, and we both pull apart, feeling embarrassed at our intimacy in front of them. I was shocked that George still remained in the room. I wondered if we had terrified him to the spot in the room as he still didn't move now. "I'm going to go get Shepherd," the nurse reports and leaves the room, muttering words that sounded like "disgusting lovers" as she goes.

"O'Malley," Alex addresses, shocking me, and gives him a nod. It was a lot like there was something between them that I was entirely missing. I was a little concerned as to what that was.

"Alex," he responds and then clears his throat. I look from one to the other. George continuously glances at the door before saying, "I'll see you guys later," and leaving the room.

"Sometimes I think he might still love you," Alex says quietly, almost like he couldn't decide if he wanted me to hear or not. I don't reply immediately and after just a few seconds have no chance to as he kisses me again. "I love you more though."

I smile at him, because it was this side of him that five years ago convinced me he wasn't a total ass. Now, five years later, I knew he was the complete opposite on the inside. He just had trouble showing that on the outside sometimes. "I probably just sentenced myself to another three weeks in the hospital," I complain, reaching my hand up to see if I could remove my bandage and feel my scar. I wondered how big it was.

Alex swats my hand away and gets a mirror from the bathroom for me to use. He pulls my bandage down again, and I tilt me head to get a look at it. It was red, angry and obviously held together by staples. It was beyond ugly. "It was just a minor procedure," he tells me, setting the hand mirror down on the table and smoothing my bandage back over. "They had to relieve the pressure after you head dived on to the bathroom floor."

"I remember a lot of yelling before going into surgery," I tell him, recalling fuzzy bits and pieces of the whole ordeal. There were lots of black spots in my memories, and certain parts that made no sense at all, but the yelling was still loud and clear. "Did you talk to George?" I ask, remembering their odd interaction just moments before.

"Not really," he says, shrugging his shoulders and dropping my hand to fidget with the tie on his scrubs.

"Alex," I say, slowly, letting him know I was well aware there was something he wasn't telling me. I didn't like the idea of those two having secret fist fights or some absurd medical battle as they go back and forth in diagnoses because they were defending my honor, or something stupid like that.

"I hardly said a word to the guy, honest," he insists, perching himself on the edge of my bed. "Now I was thinking about when my mom and sister come to visit-"

"Really?" I interrupt, utterly surprised that he hadn't already sent out some email asking them to forgive his mentally unstable patient for insisting that she was his wife and that his family should come visit the two of them in their new apartment. "But...what about your mom?"

"I haven't seen the woman in six years," Alex says, and gives a sardonic smile. "I think maybe we both can handle it for a few days."

I take his hand in mine and play with his fingers as I talk. "Do you ever talk to them? Like, just pick up the phone and chat or something?"

He sighs, twisting his fingers around mine as I mess with them, making it some unconscious game between us. "I send them money and pills for my mom every month," he admits. He adapted the face he always did when talking of his family.

"Alex, why didn't you ever say anything?" I ask, imagining how it must feel month after month to be sending money to a family you never even spoke with. It's like being the supporter of an invisible family, where no rewards were ever reaped.

"I haven't seen my sister since she was ten years old," he whispers, a face of twisted anguish exposed. I knew that this was him saying something now, admitting to all of those awful truths because I was asking him to. It was mortification and guilt rolled into one as he spoke. "I was in foster care when I was thirteen, until I was eighteen. My mom, she wasn't stable after my dad left, and then once she was better she got my brother and sister back, but me...she just kind of left me."

He swallows hard and I pull myself up to sit next to him, grabbing his face between my hands and kissing him with the most force I had in me. "That's awful," I mutter in between kisses. I waste no time going back in though, our lips locking together. I notice his restraint, as it was in the back of both of our minds right now that I'd had brain surgery four hours ago. "I want you." He opens his eyes and looks at me, staring right at me as I gaze back. "I _want_ you," I repeat, hit quickly by the memory of telling him over and over that I cared about him. "I married you, and I love you, and I totally want you. In a lot of different ways," I finish in a light joke and he chuckles for a second since we'd just gotten through a make out session.

He's not crying, but he looks like he could be as he squeezes his eyes shut, resting his head on my shoulder and breathing in deeply. "You're an idiot," he tells me, and I wonder if he's referring to earlier today again or if he means for my wanting him. "But I love you."

"I bet your mom would be proud to see how much you've accomplished," I add, because no matter how screwed up of a parent you were, who wasn't happy to see their kid turn out to be a freaking surgeon?

"I think she'd be prouder that I found you to marry," he says and gets a nostalgic smile on his face. He looks five years younger for just a second as he vanishes somewhere into his thoughts.

11:33 PM

The late hour meant the hospital was quiet on my floor. Down below us there could very well be multiple traumas and emergency surgeries, but right now it was calm and quiet where we were. A cot had been set up in my room for Alex, as the nurse had noticed earlier how he was laying in my bed. He hadn't put it to any use though as he remained next to me. Just like our make shift dinners together, these were our pretend nights together as a married couple.

Sometimes, if I closed my eyes and buried my head in his shoulder and blocked out the beeping machines, I could pretend I was in my bed with my husband, as it should be. I liked to pretend at night that I was healthy and normal, with a life and future actually waiting ahead of me. I would plan what I wanted to do for the day, like get up and go to work and go to the grocery store, or cook a delicious meal, and then I would go further ahead into the future. I would plan how many kids we would have, what their rooms would look like and if we would have a Great Dane or a Retriever. I liked to imagine our backyard with a beautiful deck and swing set. Our kitchen would be big enough for me to open a damn bake shop if I wanted.

It was a beautiful future, the one I imagined for myself, but then reality would come crashing back down around me and I would remember that my future, so far, was about the length of the life span of a decent pair of jeans. That's why I wanted to meet Alex's family and over compensate on decorations for the holidays and have so much sex with my husband. Because I didn't have the time to have four kids or bake in a huge kitchen while the Great Dane ran around the house. I needed to make the most out of what I had now both for myself and Alex. I could handle the idea of dying, I was really at peace with it. It was the state I'd be leaving Alex in that I wanted to rectify. He didn't deserve that, to be left alone without knowing for sure that he was loved and wanted. He could be as tough of a guy as he desired, but I saw past that hard exterior more and more every day.

I understood now, why Denny didn't want to live any longer, not really. Because living with a death sentence really wasn't living at all. Not when you were sick and useless on top of it. But I didn't understand how, if he really loved me, he could have just been willing to throw it away. Because I was willing to go through months of atrocious chemo and painful, torturous surgeries even if I was still going to die. I didn't do it for me, not at all. I went through it all for Alex. He deserved a wife for as long as I could be that for him, and when I was gone, he deserved the ability to move on and find someone else who could be with him.

I smiled at the way his breath blew across the back of my bare head as I settled into him just a little more, closing my eyes as I tried to relax my body and drift into sleep. I loved the man who's arms I lay in, and so for that reason I would fight every day for as long as I could. Also, I would not try again to put on a pair of jeans when the world was spinning. For his sanity, I would do these things.

**I swear, Izzie will be out of the hospital soon. I know it might seem like she's been there for a while, but she'll be out in a couple of days, I promise. Thanks to everyone for all of the reviews! Remember to add in any pointers if you have them. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	6. Chapter 6

Alex – December 6th 5:30 AM

"Ugh," I groan as I hear my phone alarm go off from somewhere in the room. I didn't know what I wanted less right now, to get up or to listen to that annoying ring tone. I sighed in relief when I'd thought it had stopped, but then both Izzie and I groan simultaneously as it starts again.

"Find that thing, give it to me, and let me throw it against the wall," Izzie grumbles as she just burrows her head deeper into my shoulder. I open my eyes, finding very little difference to how the world looked back when they were closed to how it is now, and try and get up in order to shut off the damn alarm before Izzie actually took matters into her own hands. "Never mind, just wait till it stops," she says though, grasping my shirt in her hand. I might be about five times stronger than her, but right now I was powerless.

It stops for good and I breathe a sigh of relief, although I know that by ignoring it I'll end up late for rounds. "Who's idea was it to stay up until eleven thirty last night anyhow?" I ask, recalling our long conversation that had started so incredibly serious and ended in a debate over whether thin mints or tagalongs were better cookies.

"Your's, for being so stubborn," she murmurs, and I reach my hand up to play with her hair like I always used to do when we woke in bed at home in the mornings. I only find bare skin and her scalp though, so I settle for letting my fingers dance across the top of her head, being careful to avoid the stapled area. I feel her bare leg pressed against mine, her pant leg must have rolled up at some point in the middle of the night, and I run my foot along it. "You know a really great thing about chemo?" she asks, like it's a totally normal question.

I probably stare at her like she's crazy for a few seconds before I finally answer with a, "What?" Both in question of what she was asking, and also kind of curious for the answer.

"You don't have to shave. Not anything, ever." I laugh very loudly at that. Not because she was joking, but because I knew how dead serious she was. "I mean, sure, you also don't have hair or...eyebrows, but the no shaving thing, it's pretty nice." I stare at her like the crazy person she is until she opens her eyes, catching me. "It's a silver lining," she points out, tapping my cheek. "You should be grateful too. Because otherwise I'd probably feel like a forest three weeks out of the month."

I try really hard not to audibly show my distaste at that idea, but I swear it was her wording that made it so much worse so somehow the word "ew" slips out and she laughs in response. I'm pretty content, laying there with a faded smile left over on my face, but then the alarm goes off again and now, instead of holding me to her, she's just about kicking me out of bed demanding I turn it off.

"At least it gets me out of bed one way or another," I say, but she still looks like she wants to murder my phone. "Silver lining."

7:38 AM

"Hey Cristina," I say as I find her at the front desk, switching out charts just as I was. I found I had gained a somehow, distant, likeness toward her since she kind of saved my wife's life. She was still a robotic bitch, but there was some human in there that I'd come to appreciate as well.

"Evil Spawn," she reciprocates, and then I hated her all over again. Although, if I had to choose Evil Spawn or 007 I think I'd go with the first. No surgeon wants to be known as the guys who kills people. It's a pretty bad rep. "Hey, since your life sucks and all, you want to trade me some super gory surgery for god awful clinic duty?" she asks.

"You don't want what I have," I say graciously enough considering she was comparing me to the devil's offspring a minute ago. "I'm on Sloan's service today."

"Oh please," she says, holding her hand out for the charts in my hands. "I'd take a boring skin graft surgery over a super-boring influenza case any day." I roll my eyes, because after five years you'd think her intensity for surgery every single day of her life would have died down some, and considering she was interested in cardiothoracics you'd think she'd steer clear of plastics. I didn't even want to go near plastics, and I was currently stuck in undecided land. Which would probably mean I'd end up being that lame ass guy who got stuck in general because he didn't know what else to do since he was distracted. "Besides, it's practically your wife's clinic. You should want to go down there."

I roll my eyes, surrendering to this frantically desperate, surgery hunting, robot as I thrust my charts at her to go work in the clinic that my wife had named after her dead fiance. I grumble to myself on my way over there, hoping to walk in and find at least something mildly interesting, or at least surgical. Bowel obstruction maybe? Or even an appy. I could go solo on an appy. Only I walk in to find two other people there. A nurse and an intern who looked extremely confused.

Great, I thought to myself as I flopped down onto one of the beds, now I could sit around and do nothing all day while I mentally went insane. Stupid Yang, no wonder she wanted plastics over this. Hell, she would go to peds over this. What I hated most about this was the time it left for me to sit here and wonder and speculate. Last night I'd gone and bared my twisted, demented soul to my wife as we went through my life history. I'd have stopped long ago if she didn't keep asking so many questions. It was like a freaking therapy session. The thing was though, it didn't feel like therapy where they're sitting there trying to find what's wrong with you and fix it. It felt like I was talking to someone who cared about my past and all the shit I'd gone through. Because she did, so I needed to tell her.

It wasn't that I hated discussing my past because I didn't want to relive it or whatever, but it made me feel so...weak. It wasn't like she hadn't seen me crying like a little girl ten times before though, so what was one more time really? I loved her, every day that became more and more obvious to me with just how much I loved her. I've loved her for years, and finally she loved me back, and now here we were. So yeah, I cried in front of her, and I told her about my crappy family and the stupid foster system, but at least she got me and at least she still loved me at the end of it. It was like talking to someone without ever having to be judged or have them think less of you. I could only ever trust her for that.

"Excuse me," a woman approaches me. She looks healthy, normal, and frankly a little hot with her long blonde hair, obviously fake boobs, and perfected figure. She still had nothing on my wife though. "Do you administer blood tests here?" she asks, and I'm sure I'm giving her this look like she's crazy, but I'm not sure how to stop myself because she had just asked me a really dumb question.

"Um, this is a hospital," I say patiently, hopping down from the bed I'd been lying on. "So yeah, we do blood tests."

"Oh good," she says as she turns around and pulls up the back of her shirt, revealing these grotesque, red, oozing, sores that were covering her skin. "Because I'd really like to know what this is."

10:10 AM

It's half way through the morning and I'm feeling pretty good about myself as I drop off a skin sample to be biopsied. The woman had been admitted and currently the attendings were throwing around ideas as to what it could be. I'd passed Yang in the hallway earlier and, from the look she gave me, I gathered that she knew I had landed a far better case than any skin graft.

It was with a fairly positive outlook on life that I found Izzie in her room, sitting up and eating a non-sutured banana as she stared intently at some book on her lap. Her scans were in a few minutes and, unlike last time, I wasn't about to be sprinting through the hospital to make it in time. Her face lights up when she tears her attention away from her book and sees me. That right there is what made her ten times prettier than the rash lady. Well, pre-awareness of existing rash that is. Now that I knew it was there she was like, a hundred times hotter.

"No passing out today, right?" I ask as I go and sit at the foot of her bed, taking a small bite off her banana as she offers it to me.

"No promises, but I'm taking some preventive measures," she tells me, finishing off the end of the banana and laying the peeling in my hands. I roll my eyes and dump it in the trash for her. I roll the wheelchair in her room over, locking the wheels and going to help her into it. "I'm fine, Alex. Really," she says with conviction. "You know, despite having brain surgery, I feel better now than I felt all week."

"You just want to go home," I call her out, not backing down as I helped her sit. Which was good because she tripped over her own feet in the few steps it took to get there. She was strong, but she wanted out of the hospital, and I wasn't even going to consider allowing her to lie her way out of here. Especially since I wouldn't be home if anything happened. Another reason I was insistent of us moving closer as I had been. That trailer was just too far away and too secluded for me to be comfortable leaving her there when she routinely fell down while putting her pants on. I spent more of my time at work worrying about her or calling her than doing any work. Hopefully the apartment would put my mind to ease at least some.

"Don't you want to go home?" she asks, and I have a hard time not immediately saying "hell yes" because I missed real beds and real food so much. Oh, and a real shower, I missed that too. Only the trailer had none of that, which is where we would be for a couple of days before we had the stuff we needed at the apartment. Another reason why I wanted to keep Izzie here as long as possible.

"I want to keep you alive," I answer instead. "Which you aren't doing so well yourself at." I release the brakes and begin wheeling her toward the scan room, waving off the nurse who was probably assigned to do it in the first place. "Remind me to tell you about my case tonight," I say, like I might actually forget.

"Ooh, did you finally get something good?" she asks, life filling her voice as she tilts her head to look up at me.

"I hope so," I respond as I push her into the room. I kneel in front of her, taking her face and holding it between my two hands. "No more passing out," I instruct and she smiles and nods. "Or else you owe me big time."

"What would my punishments be?" she asks as she climbs up onto the table, just like two days ago. I try to refrain from the horrible flashbacks that occur as I allow her to start going into the machine, grabbing my gear and throwing it on. "Drinking a bottle of hot sauce? Ooh, or doing the splits during sex?"

"I was just thinking walking around topless for a while," I suggest and she laughs. "Not that I don't totally approve of the splits idea."

"You two do realize there are other people who can hear you, right?" Meredith's voice asks us which sends us both into laughter.

"Like we didn't see you and McDreamy doing it on the stairs last month," I say, undoubtedly effectively turning her cheeks red in front of whatever intern sat in there with her and Shepherd.

"Or on the counter a couple of days after that," Izzie adds and we both laugh for the third time. She was having a good day, I concluded, and so was I. It felt like just a regular, good day. I wished there could be more like this for us.

"Do you two like working here?" Derek asks, and the two of us can't control it as we laugh even more, like school kids being caught doing naughty things on the playground. The euphoria of seeing a tint to my wife's cheeks had sent me back to the third grade. Her giggle from inside the CT machine traveled through to me like a warm rush of joy filling me up and making me whole. Things weren't sad or having me scared shitless for just a couple of seconds. It felt right, even though it was just temporary.

11:57 AM

"So I didn't end up going with the cashmere like I wanted, but I think I might go back and get it," my patient, Carrie Williams says, describing her pretty much endless shopping trip to Lexie, who tried her best to nod and look interested as the woman went on, and on. I wasn't even required to listen to her and I felt like demanding her to shut up. Every minute I was around this woman the less and less attractive she got to me. Her stating "for all intensive purposes" earlier also had me rolling my eyes. She was dull on top of stupid, it seemed. Suddenly my hot surgical case was a thorn in my side. After all, no surgery was being done and no diagnosis had been reached. I yearned for the tiny humans again. They were way less annoying, believe it or not.

"Your vitals look good, Ms. Williams," I say, giving the polite patient smile to this shallow, shallow woman. "Dr. Sloan will be in to talk to you a little later to discuss what course we're going to take."

"Well you're going to cut them off, right?" she asks, sounding panicked. I got it, having gross things covering your body sucked, but at least she wasn't terminal, as far as she knew anyway. "You have to cut these things off of me."

"I can't say anything for sure just yet," I answer, doing Bailey proud with my politically correct answer. "I promise we'll let you know our course of action as soon as we know ourselves. Dr. Grey can answer anymore questions you might have," I say, gesturing to poor Lexie who looked about ready to fall asleep. For someone with a photographic memory I wondered if something so boring could be worse than it would be for the normal.

She shoots me a look, obviously angry at me. "You ass," she mumbles as I walk by her. I laugh to myself, grateful for being ahead of her in residency. It felt good to be in charge, especially when you got to do things like that.

I begin making my way over to my post-op patients in peds, passing 007 as I start down the stairs. "O'Malley," I say, trying to get the guy's attention since he walked right by me. I hated seeing him with my wife, holding her hand and just being there with her. It was annoying, just like he was. But, for god knows what reason, she wanted him there, so I would just have to grit my teeth and deal with it because that was what I did these days. I just dealt with it. Besides, if he was around long enough and screwed up then I'd get the opportunity to punch him in the face, which would be pretty damn great.

"Yes, Dr. Karev?" He sounds like some official doctor, as much as George ever could anyhow, when he talks. I didn't feel like dealing with his crap of being better than me or whatever right now though so I hoped he'd cut it out and talk to me like the piece of shit he was.

I sigh, detesting what I was about to say already. It went against my very nature to even consider it. "I just wanted to...thank you, for yesterday, I mean." I say it as sincerely as I can, what with my mind screaming "What the hell are you thinking?" at me as I speak. I don't know what happens in your mind when you fall in love but some of those chemicals firing off all over the place must screw with your personality. What makes it worse is how stunned the guy looks, staring at me like I've grown a second head. Screw my wife, this wasn't worth it. "Never mind," I mutter, walking away.

"Is she doing better?" he calls out, stopping my progress. I sigh, shaking my head at him. Didn't he get I wasn't going to be his one-stop shop for all things Izzie? I couldn't just play mediator with them any more than I could play newscaster with him. Either they needed to make up, in an extremely platonic manner, or he needed to go away and leave her the hell alone.

I climb back up the few stairs I'd walked down a moment ago, getting close to whisper, "Do you still love my wife?" I ask, not feeling so good at getting an answer. O'Malley was an idiot. A 007, Bambi idiot. But Izzie loved those helpless, needy souls. Probably how she became friends with the dork in the first place. I knew it was why she ever decided to talk to me. Because she suddenly started seeing me as poor, beat up Alex who had a reason to act like an ass instead of just...an ass.

"What? No, Alex. No," he says, shaking his adamantly at me. I thought it might just be to make sure I didn't beat him up, I knew the coward was scared of me, but maybe he was telling the truth too. I shouldn't care really, I knew that much. "I love her more like...a sister."

I scoff, "A sister who you slept with a year and a half ago?" I still didn't see how that worked, O'Malley getting someone like Izzie Stevens. Even I didn't deserve someone like Izzie Stevens, but maybe it was because O'Malley was a better man than me, with more to offer than I could. Not in all areas, obviously, but I knew it was true, maybe she had too.

"I don't-I don't love her, not like that." I nod, having half the mind to ask how he loved her then. He wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't even look at her, and it was obviously killing her so how did he love her? But I couldn't criticize him all that much. I'd done the same thing with my own mother and sister for years. I wanted to think O'Malley and I were two totally different people, I obviously being the better of us two. But even though he annoyed the shit out of me, maybe we were kind of alike. Not in too many ways though. God, not too much.

"Alright," I say, and then just walk away. I didn't care to talk to him anymore, not when he was acting like a bumbling idiot especially. I could only take O'Malley in very small, contained dosages.

12:42 PM

I walk into Hannah's room, flipping through her chart that the nurses had updated throughout the night. I was smiling, glad to see how much she was improving since her impromptu surgery. I'm surprised, and pretty much totally unsure about what to do, when I walk in to find her crying and all alone. Having a wife with cancer it was easy for me to assume the worst at the tears. Bad prognosis' were usually the source of crying when you lived that sort of life.

I look around the room, finding a box of tissues in the corner and handing it to her. She cries more then, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her head into them as she sobs. I considered coming back later, after she was more put together, but this wasn't some grown up patient who needed time to collect themselves. This was a little girl who needed someone to comfort her. I sit at the foot of her bed, just like I do with Izzie, and place a hand on her blanketed leg.

"Do you want me to call your mom?" I offer, feeling unsure already. I didn't want to be the creeper doctor who touched little girls while they cried.

"No!" she yells, and I don't ask anything more. Obviously my last idea had been a terrible one. "I want them both to stay away from me."

"O-kay," I say, unsure of her sudden turn. Just the other day she was talking about how she appreciated her mom and dad, and all they did. It was corny and dumb, but I still thought it'd been a nice thing to hear. Today she obviously wasn't feeling so loving though. "Can I help then?"

"Talk some sense into them, maybe?" she asks, calming from her hysterical cries earlier.

"Um, I don't think that's in my job description unless you need surgery," I say, remembering all about advocating for a patient' tiny human unable to make their own decisions and all.

"They're getting divorced," she sighs, a tear falling from her eye which she wipes stubbornly from her face.

"Oh," I respond, probably sounding totally insensitive about the thing. Divorce had been the best thing that happened to me as a kid, until the whole crazy mom thing screwed it all up. "Well, I mean, you get more Christmas gifts this way," I point out and she laughs, kind of sincere for a second and then just bitter.

"I don't care that they're getting a divorce," she explains and I feel totally lost now. "I'm mad that I'm the one causing it!" She starts all over again, with snot and tears and loud, shaky breathing.

"I made my parents split up when I was a kid," I volunteer, reliving the moment for the second time in twenty-four hours. "Literally made my mom go crazy from it." She swallows hard as she looks at me, her doctor who was supposed to get the cancer out of her body so she could live a normal life again. Somehow we'd gotten this really strange, way unorthodox friendship.

"Really?" she asks, voice small.

"Yeah, so even if they are splitting up because of you, which I'm sure you're wrong about," I add in because even if it was true that sick kids put stress on parents to the point where there relationship fell apart, I hardly wanted her to think of it like that. In the end it was ultimately still the parents fault for letting it all fall apart. I mean, couldn't anyone find a legitimate excuse for letting things go to hell? She shouldn't be bearing the guilt for that. "I screwed up way worse."

"Hey," she says, a small smile flitting on her lips. "You went first this time." I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed by her silly turns game, but secretly amused. "I've had a good influence on you."

And, truth be told, the kid probably actually had.

4:11 PM

"That is not a legal move," Izzie objects, moving my knight back to it's original place on the chess board and snatching her king back into place.

"It's more legal than your little bishop deviation earlier," I comment and she giggles in response, obviously well aware of her blatant cheating. "You're lucky you're cute," I add and she laughs again. I was taking full advantage of her good day, handing off my annoying lady case to Cristina even. I wanted to be apart of the surgery, and the diagnosis, but this was more important me. I hated chess nearly as much as I hated O'Malley, but I would still rather be here. I didn't even really get myself these days.

Izzie heaves a sigh, and I look up, figuring she was getting impatient from waiting for me to move. "I'm going," I grumble out, trying to analyze the board for what to do next. This just was not my game.

"It's not that," she says, and I look up, knowing that it must be something. "I'm worried about Henry," she admits sadly.

"Lung cancer Henry?" I ask, realizing a second too late that I probably should have clarified a different way. I didn't need her thinking everyone went around going, "Oh, you mean, multiple metastatic melanoma Izzie?" which, they probably wouldn't because how many people would bother saying all of that?

"He hasn't answered his phone in days, Alex. He always answers his phone," now I sigh. Because I didn't understand why my wife was calling sixty year old men as part of her daily life, as well as hating how she was sitting here worrying about things like that. I move one of my pawns to take out her second rook.

"I'm sure he's fine," I try and assure her. "Probably celebrating with all his lady friends down at bingo about his positive diagnosis is all." I smile at her and she smiles back, and I'm glad that it seems we're done with this. Her friend was fine, she just needed to believe that and stop worrying all the time. I sometimes thought she suspected the worst, after what happened to Denny and all. Positive diagnoses didn't mean much to her. The dude she loved got a new heart and was supposed to live for thirty more years before suddenly dying of a blood clot. I'd probably have some doubts too.

"How's your patient?" she asks. I don't want to lie to her, but I didn't want to make her feel guilty that I was sitting here playing a game of chess with her instead of solving a medical mystery. She gets my king with her knight, leaving me without many more options. Damn woman was too good at this game.

"It was just a rash," I say. "Derm's gonna take care of it."

"Bummer," she says, smiling as she moves her bishop into place. "Check mate," she declares happily. I roll my eyes, unsurprised, this was the third game she'd beat me at. "You know, this might be a little more fun if you actually proposed a challenge at all."

"Shut up," I mutter as I begin packing the game away. I'm interrupted by a knock on the door as Izzie's oncologist pokes her head in.

"Dr. Stevens, Dr. Karev," she greets, shaking our hands. "I wanted to talk to you really quick about Izzie's most recent scans," she says, pulling a chair up on one side of Izzie's bed and gesturing that I do the same. I sit on the edge of the bed, grabbing her hand to hold tightly in mine. _It's going to be okay_, I tell myself for the sake of sanity. "Now, I'm sure you both remember that yesterday we said we would consider some different treatment options," she opens and we both nod dumbly, hoping she carried on. "But first I'd like to start by going over your scans."

She opens the manilla folder, pulling out the scans that held the truth for one more month. Either treatment was working or it wasn't, it was simple as that. If it worked, she lived, if it didn't...she died. That part sounded simple, and I wanted it to be, but for some reason it was a lot more complex in my mind. The doctor hands them to us, and I appreciate her recognizing us as doctors too, not just patients. I hold one up to the light and Izzie and I lean in together to look at it, laughing in relief at what we saw. "Oh thank god," I mutter as we pull each other into a tight hug, one more good month.

"It would seem no new tumors have formed, which means-"

"The cancer cells aren't multiplying anymore," Izzie cuts her off, a beautiful smile on her face. We knew this wasn't the end, but that was exactly it. We didn't have an end, not yet. Right now, she got to live without a death sentence. For one more month we got to live in a minimal state of peace knowing that the cancer wasn't taking over entirely.

"Exactly," she says, even the doctor smiling with us. "We aren't out of the woods yet, you two know that," she reminds us and I nod. Of course I knew that. I knew that every day of my life. We might never be out of the woods, but we were at least getting more time. If nothing else, we at least had more time now. "And usually I don't like giving my patients false hope, because even if things look good for one scan, next month it can be a mess, but you two always seem so worried and aware, that I think you could both use the news that, if things stay like they are, I could be pronouncing you into remission in less than a year."

Remission. The best word someone can hear once the person they love has been diagnosed with cancer. And today, I got to hear it. It might not apply in this very moment of time, but it was a possibility, a future word that would be placed in my wife's folder. Remission. Best three syllables ever made.

7:56 PM

Night time rounds were just about finished, I flipped to the end of my list, expecting to find Hannah on there for my last of the night, but finding I was already done. That was weird, I hadn't seen her yet tonight. I scanned again, making sure I hadn't accidentally overlooked her. I find I haven't and set off to go to her room anyhow. It was probably some technical error for her to not be on my rotation tonight. Odd enough, the room seems to have been cleared out, no patient in sight. Finally, I resign to searching peds to find Dr. Robins.

Sure enough I find her talking with her girlfriend Dr. Torres, again. Just my luck they'd be talking about their hot and heavy make out session in the on call room or something. Instead it would seem that they were actually having an argument, thankfully. I try to stand off to the side, not wanting to get in the way as they bickered over some dinner reservation. Oh god, was Arizona asking for another night of...fun?

"Some days it just seems like you're dating Mark Sloan more than you're dating me!" Arizona yells, about to cry if her breaking voice was any indicator. I should have just walked away then, gone and found the girl through the system or something, but I didn't, being dumb enough to wait patiently instead.

"Mark is my friend, Arizona. And just because I'm not as good as a lesbian as you doesn't mean I'm dating him! God," she turns, ready to walk away from the argument. "I don't want to fight about this anymore," she says a few steps away from her.

"Me either," Arizona answers, her eyes still glassy from crying. "I don't think you're a bad girlfriend, Callie."

"You don't?" she asks and I decide now is the time to step in.

"Um, excuse me, Dr. Robins," I say, and they both turn and look at me.

"Get lost for a minute, Karev," Callie says, shooting me a dirty look. I look to Dr. Robins to say something else, but she doesn't her eyes now focused on her girlfriend.

"I just want to know why Hannah Roberts was taken off my rotation?" I ask, ignoring Callie's demands and trying to overcome Dr. Robins ignorance. "She's still my patient."

"No, Alex, she's not," Dr. Robins answers, tearing her gaze away from her girlfriend, thank god, and on to me. "Her surgery's over and she's doing fine. She was moved to the peds oncology unit which means you aren't on her case anymore." She smiles at me, widely. "Be proud though, Dr. Karev. You did an excellent job with keeping her alive to make it to treatment."

I nod, saying a quiet, "Thanks," before their attention is totally off of me and back on to their conversation of being good lesbians. So she was off my service. That was good, she was getting better, is what that meant. I knew I should just feel glad for her, but I couldn't feeling a little upset that I wouldn't be seeing her anymore. For a kid she'd been pretty cool, and smart.

Oh well, I thought. It wasn't like her case was interesting anymore. Nothing surgical about it. So now I'd find a new patient. Someone new and exciting, who didn't talk about cashmere sweaters all day too. It couldn't be that hard.

9:55 PM

Izzie's out cold by the time I make it to her room. I'd had to go out to the trailer to move as many more of our things as I could to the apartment. I left the essentials at the trailer, for however long we'd still be stuck there for. I secretly hoped Izzie would be in the hospital until I started my vacation time, unsure if I'd be able to confidently leave her out in the woods so soon after chemo and surgery. She'd passed out a few too many times for my liking this time around.

I waste little time showering and throwing on a pair of sweatpants and my usual black tank top before climbing into bed with her. I had to shift her over in order to fit, the kink in my back from last night protesting as I attempted to do the same for the sixth night in a row. Well, not quite now that I thought about my night spent in the on-call room. Still though, it was a lot of consecutive squished-hospital-bed-sleeping.

"We need to make sure we get a pull out couch," Izzie mumbles to me as she rolls over, laying half on top of me. I kiss the top of her head, plastering smaller kisses all around her incision. "And a table, with four chairs."

"Okay, okay," I say, knowing she's referring to my family's impending visit. I chose not to think about it throughout the day. "I should probably call them and confirm first or something."

"We should buy them plane tickets, Alex," she suggests, sounding like a wife instructing her husband on what he would be doing without making it sound like a demand. "Your mom shouldn't have to drive all that way and your sister's kind of young for that, isn't she?"

"Yeah, we can do that. I'll book it tomorrow," I promise. "I still don't know if this is the best idea," I admit. I wanted to do it, a certain part of me did at least, but I thought of all of the things that would so easily go completely and utterly wrong. My mom was not a healthy person, not at all, and I couldn't handle two sick people. Especially since my mom was ten times worse than Izzie on a bad day, as impossible as that sounded to even me.

Izzie leans up, looking me in the eye in the darkness of the room and then leans down and kisses me, long and slow. "It will be good, Alex. Even in a worst case scenario, seeing your family will be good." I want to laugh, because she didn't understand what worse case scenario meant with my family, but instead I just smile kindly at her, appreciating her support, and leaning up for another kiss.

"You're a dangerous woman," I say, falling into heavy, connected kisses with her, forgetting all inhibitions as her tongue comes sliding into my mouth. The heart monitor starts speeding up as we carry on, and I pull apart after a couple of minutes, not wanting to demand too much of her body too soon. "I miss that," I admit.

"You have no idea," she replies. "I don't care what you say, we're going to break in our new bed once we move in," she demands, and I have no morals left in me to try and deny her that.

**Okay, so, last Izzie in the hospital chapter! Tomorrow should be a pretty long one if I'm calculating correctly, and with some things happening. I know today was kind of slow, but it was all filler. Thanks for all of the reviews last chapter. I'm so glad to see new readers who love A/I too. I'll see you all tomorrow!**


	7. Chapter 7

Izzie – December 7th 7:22 AM

Morning and reality come far too soon, having taken Alex from me over an hour and a half ago. I drifted back off in a restless sleep after that, my body desperate to be out of bed. I wake up from the sensation of having fallen during my sleep, it was the second time since my fall two days ago. The world would spin, becoming a mesh of colors and then I'd be falling, jerking awake right before I smacked the ground.

I was tired of sleeping and tired of laying around. I press the button to call a nurse in, hoping for someone pleasant today. I drum my fingers on my table as I wait, feeling jittery as I shift around in bed. It was like being a kid on Christmas morning. I just wanted to get up and move, unable to contain myself much longer before I'd get up and go rip open the presents. This whole, being contained thing, was driving me crazy now that I was feeling about twenty times better.

"Yes, Dr. Stevens?" my favorite nurse, Marie, asks. "Did you want breakfast?"

"Actually," I say, pulling myself up swinging my legs over the side of the bed so they hang down. "I wanted to have some help getting up, make sure I'm okay to go for a little walk." I might not find the help necessary, as I generally knew my body's limitations and I was pretty certain I had a decent amount of strength in me right now, but I also knew Alex would kill me if I tried anything too crazy. So I settled for asking for help from a nurse.

"Of course, I'm glad you're feeling better," she tells me with a smile. She was my favorite for a reason. She didn't work often, because she had three children, but she was always nice and helpful. Nothing like the bitter nurses who complained about getting me bananas to suture. And as an added bonus, she'd only started working here a few months ago so she hadn't slept with my husband at any point in the past, which couldn't be said for many of the nurses around here. I laughed to myself a little. I'd essentially married a slut.

Marie comes over and takes hold of one of my arms, pulling me to my feet. I smile triumphantly as I begin walking. The walls stayed in place even as I moved and my vision was free of any black spots. "How do you feel?" she asks, a few paces away from me now.

"Great," I say, a wide smile spreading across my face. "Mind if I go for a walk?" I knew she'd say yes. For one she hadn't been here for the whole, falling while putting pants on incident, and she almost always said yes as long as I looked good enough, and I really did feel better than I had in days. "I just want to get some energy out and find some of my friends around here."

"Of course, Dr. Stevens. Just don't push yourself," she instructs, just like everyone else around me. It was always all about not pushing myself, being careful, taking it easy. I yearned for the day when I could stop taking it easy. I didn't need to go bungee jumping off of buildings, but standing for fifteen hours in an OR would be amazing, or working a thirty hour shift, or even just going for a jog, dancing in the living room. All of these things would be great once I could stop taking it easy. I intended to do everyone of them. Oh, and have sex. Lots and lots of sex.

"I won't," I assure, glad to be free of any IV's at the moment so I could walk without dragging it around with me. I tuck the tubes from my central line down my tank top, zipping up my jumper to cover them. Stepping foot out of that room feels pretty damn good. Alex and I had gone on only one walk my whole time here, leaving me even more anxious than usual to get out. The only other time I'd gotten out of there was when I'd made it to the OR, hardly an accomplishment.

"Dr. Stevens," Derek greets me happily as he approaches me down the hallway. "Good to see you up and around. Bailey mentioned about giving you the all clear to go home." Oh god I hoped he wasn't kidding.

"You better not be teasing me," I warn, already fantasizing of warm beds and a kitchen to cook in. For whatever reason I'd woken up from surgery with an intense desire for chocolate chip banana bread, and I had every intention of making and devouring it first chance I got.

"Wouldn't dare," he answers, giving me a smile and continuing walking. "I'm off to surgery, but Meredith's in the pit if you want to see her."

"Thanks!" I call after him as he vanishes down the hall. I was hoping to make the rounds of the hospital, bound to miss a few people since some were sure to be in surgery. I was back and forth on whether I wanted to see George or not. I was hoping since our talk the day of my surgery that maybe he might have come around just a little, but no such luck as far as I was aware. I had to be honest, I kind of wondered if Alex was behind it. I entertained the possibility that he might feel mildly threatened by George, therefore overcompensating with his ass-like behavior to keep him away. There was no competition though. I just wanted my best friend as well as my husband around.

"Well look who's up," I hear Bailey say from behind me. I turn carefully, watching my footing as I find her. I smile widely, trying to look extra alive and active for her. I felt good, but in order to be discharged I needed to look great, or else no one would ever believe me. Apparently I lied a lot, or at least that's how they treated me. As a doctor I wasn't stupid enough to not be honest, most of the time at least.

"I feel really good today, Bailey," I try to impress upon her. "I was going to go get something in the cafeteria, want to come?" I offer, kind of lying there since I had no money on me, but an orange juice and bowl of cereal didn't sound bad at all.

"Oh, I would, but I have a colostomy in a few minutes," she says, glancing over her shoulder like she needed to be moving five minutes ago. "You look good though. I'll come do a check up after the operation and if you look good maybe you can go home."

I try really hard to refrain from throwing my arms in the air and bellowing "yes!" and settle instead for just smiling. "Sounds good, Dr. Bailey." She's gone then, yelling for people to get out of her way as she runs to get to her surgery. I missed that, running to surgeries. One step at a time, I reminded myself. If I had the choice I would jump at the chance of going back to surgery, but I knew it wasn't an option any more than sky diving was.

I walk to the elevators, pressing the down button to take me to the pit to go and find Meredith. I wondered if Cristina was in the clinic then. I wouldn't be surprised if she was all over Alex's case, trying to get in on the weird skin girl's surgery. Even if it was just a rash, from the way Alex made it sound, there would at least be a skin graft going on. The elevator pauses halfway down, and Lexie Grey gets on with me.

"Hey, Izzie. You look a _lot_ better since I last saw you," she says, nodding her head in emphasis. "I mean, I have a photographic memory and that was on ugly sight the other day. I'm kind of surprised you're so...okay now." Sometimes I forgot how much she could talk. "I'll see you around," she says as the elevator doors open and she disappears.

The pit is practically dead when I get down there, which was a little strange on a Wednesday afternoon. Usually in the middle of the week people were either "sick" because they didn't feel like going to work another day, or they did stupid stuff. Surprisingly, there were a lot of car accidents on Wednesdays. I find Meredith suturing a man's arm with expert fingers. I had a surge of jealousy with the sureness she moved her fingers, hardly even noticing what she was doing. I missed the simplicity of it, now it was a struggle to stab the needle through accurately. I was determined when I got home that I would practice. I would practice and practice, and then when I was done with the bananas, I could bake the banana bread as I wanted.

"Hey, Mer," I say, still observing her handy work. She looks up and sees me and looks legitimately surprised. "No good cases today?"

"Not for me," she says, sounding disappointed. "Cristina and George are on the skin case, while Alex and I are stuck with pit and clinic." I furrowed my eyebrows at that. How had Alex ended up with clinic again today? Yesterday his time in clinic had rewarded him a case, but now they'd taken it from him? I began to worry that he might be considered useless right now. What if he was so tired that he couldn't do his job effectively? Or he spent too much time worrying over my stupid disease and his family coming to visit to focus on a patient? I'd feel awful, I knew that much.

"Alex got stuck in the clinic again?" I ask, innocently enough. If I knew him getting mindless work was becoming a regular thing I'd be talking to the chief about it, or at least having a chat with Alex. In the event of him getting burnt out though, it was reassuring knowing that he would be home with me every day in a week's time. I had to be honest, my excitement over the matter was hard to contain.

"He traded with Cristina yesterday," Meredith says absentmindedly. "There you go, Mr. Jenkins. Good as new," she tells her patient with a smile, handing a nearby nurse his chart to finish him up. "Something about being bored with the case."

"Bullshit," I call, rolling my eyes at the thought. Alex didn't get bored with cases. Especially undiagnosed skin disease with potential for surgery. No one just gave a case up because of boredom. Maybe if they thought something better was coming along, but not boredom by any means. "Has he seemed off to you?" I question, because even if he seemed fine to me it was entirely possible he was just putting on a front. I tried to be strong for him and then he tried to be strong for me. It was what we did.

"No, just tired," she answers, glancing around the pit as she flips through a new chart. "Mrs. Havens?" she calls. "Actually, now that you mention it, he was really weird the other night when asking me to stay away from George."

"Stay away from George?" I ask, unsure as to why he would care if Meredith was talking to him. It pissed me off that he was asking anyone to "stay away from George" though, because George needed his friends, even if he decided I wasn't one of them. And I swear to god, if Alex had told George that he needed to stay away from me he would be sleeping on our currently nonexistent couch for a very long time.

"I don't know, he was all awkward when talking to me about it," she shrugs her shoulders, smiling at the little old lady who approaches her. "Glad to see you're doing better," she calls out to me as she leads the woman behind an examination curtain.

I sigh, looking around me for anyone else who might be here. It was funny, even with feeling so much better I still felt alienated from everyone as they zoomed through the hospital, all with some sort of initiative or task to accomplish. Surgeries and clinics and exams, my goal was to wander the halls without falling over. It was depressing, no matter how I tried to deny it. I needed to feel useful again. I'd think of something to do over Christmas, something that made me feel like I had a purpose to getting up every day.

I decide against trying to walk over to the clinic. The weather outside had been a forecast of below freezing, and I had no coat or shoes. Alex would not appreciate my attempting to walk over there in such conditions, and neither would my feet. So I set back toward the upstairs, feeling drained from my walk, not so much physically as emotionally as I was reminded once again how different and weak I now was.

12:32 PM

My hand shook as I set the phone down, another unanswered call to Henry. I'd taken to leaving messages, even sending him a text although I doubted he was capable of operating his phone well enough to read it, let alone reply back. I didn't understand, just a week ago he and I had been laughing and chatting in the infusion center, now he was no where to be found. He was doing the best out of all of us, being given a date for potential remission which was more than most of us could ask for, but now he had seemed to vanish. I wondered if Alex could be right, that he was just busy celebrating. I knew he didn't have any family and had never married. Maybe he was just out with some of his friends, living life now that he could again and all.

I knew Alex didn't get it, why I felt so close to Henry. To Alex it was just me being me, making friends and connections with the people I was around. It was a classic Izzie move, right? After all, I was the one to go and fall in love with a patient, wasn't I? But I don't think anyone could get it, not really, until they'd had cancer themselves and were put in the same place time and time again with the same people who finally just...got what you were dealing with. It didn't matter how much everyone else around you supported you or helped you, they still couldn't get it. Which was great, I'd never want anyone to understand it because that would mean they would have to go through this hell too.

Henry was one of those people who I saw every time I returned to the hospital, and I watched him get sicker and weaker, and then finally better. I watched the life return to his eyes and his skin regain color, and I was there the first day he sat down in the infusion room without an oxygen mask on. I watched him get better and I drew strength from that. All the while he was there to keep me company and support me while I went through my own process of torturous chemo. He explained how the fatigue got better, that the chills went away, and the nausea became easier to deal with. And now he was just...gone, and I didn't know why. Was it so strange to worry about something like that? I hardly didn't think so.

"Dr. Stevens," Bailey says as she enters my room, same intense, demanding look on her face as I'd known all my intern years. She had soften toward me once my treatment started, treating me like her child more than her inferior colleague. I'd appreciated that kinder side of Bailey during those beginning days, when no one else even came near me like I was some leprous. Now I was glad to have her back to herself though. It meant she didn't see me as someone so fragile anymore, which meant I could be discharged in as soon as a half hour. "I hope you aren't going to try and lie to me today."

I shake my head, pushing myself up further in the bed so I sat up straighter. She started with a very basic exam, listening to my heart and lungs, checking my blood pressure, and finally my blood sugar. Then she had me stand, and walk in a straight line to prove a lack of vertigo. Finally she finished with a quick pupil check.

"Satisfied?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest in question. She smiles, scribbling her name down on the papers.

"You're free, Stevens," she says and I smile excitedly. A week of the hospital would make anyone crazy. Well, when you were stuck being the patient especially. "But Karev is taking the rest of the day off work to get you home," she demands. I feel bad to be drawing him away from work about eight hours early, but grateful for an excuse to get a day with him to myself. Besides, he was missing out on clinic, no one got upset about missing out on clinic. "He'll be up later to get you."

I smile in anticipation as I remember our deal. Today was my discharge day, which meant we were off to the store to buy my long list of Christmas decorations. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to deter me from my plans, insisting I go home and rest since I'd already done more today than I'd done in a week. It was true, after my decently long stroll through the hospital I did feel worn, but that was to be expected after four days of aggressive chemo and brain surgery. I could make it through Target, undoubtedly if it included Christmas shopping. It was my favorite shopping trip of the year.

I pull out clothes to wear for the day, this time being far more cautious as I dress. I was ten times sturdier than before though, making the process so much quicker as I pull on a pair of too-big jeans and a green T-shirt, pulling on my now oversized open, grey knit sweater over top. It had been long before, but now it was long and big, looking like it'd been stretched to fit two of my bodies. I turned away from the mirror, thankful that it was the sweater hanging off of me at least and not something like a dress or some lingerie. I finish my outfit with a scarf, tying the pink and white satin fabric around my head, covering my bare scalp expertly.

I couldn't help a second glance in the mirror, my eyes getting stuck on my face. It was so bare, no eyelashes or eyebrows, further pronounced my strange appearance. My eyes were sunken in, and my face almost a green tint it was so pale now that the redden, angry skin had faded away leaving behind a couple of patches of dried skin instead. My lips were cracked, like that of a dehydrated woman walking through the desert. You could see where my lips had actually cracked open and then scabbed over, leaving brown, rough spots. Yellow was now the shade of my teeth, their pearly white appearance long gone. It didn't help that I'd long since quit the white strips Meredith and I had stuck to religiously before.

I cry at the ugly, limp being, trying to deny the tears but they come anyway, turning my eyes red which just made it that much worse. I sink to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest as I cried, working on controlling my gasping breaths. It seemed so trivial, to cry over something so simple like an appearance, but I couldn't help it anymore. I felt ugly every time I looked in the mirror, like less of a woman because I had no energy to make myself prettier and no hair to style around my face. I wasn't what I used to be, and even though I was literally fighting for my life that somehow still managed to bother me.

"Izzie?" Alex asks, sounding concerned as I knew he would once he found me. I was hoping he'd be late, giving me time to get myself together, but, just my luck, he was actually early. "Iz, what's wrong?"

I shook my head, opening my mouth to get words out, but they just wouldn't come. He wastes no time as he comes and sits next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him. He didn't ask any questions, just worked on comforting me. "I used to be hot!" I finally cry out, burying my face into his shoulder?

"What? Iz, is that what this is about?" he asks, almost sounding disapproving. I knew what came next. "You're beautiful."

I shake my head, vehemently denying his claim. "I don't care about you thinking I'm pretty, Alex. I know you do, but I used to be a fucking model for Christ's sake!" I yell out, remembering how Cristina and Meredith had both expressed their wishes to look as I did so they could spend their lives naked. I didn't identify myself by beauty, but it was apart of who I was when I walked out the door. People looked at me and thought I was a pretty girl. Now they saw a sickly woman. "I used to be the kind of hot that turned heads. I had curves, and a butt, and my hair was a pain in my ass, but I could make it look perfect when I wanted." I cried more, knowing how horrendously shallow I sounded at this very moment.

He was obviously clueless on consoling me. I knew because I was pretty positive I was inconsolable, and he was rather aware of that. So we just sat there, awkwardly on the bathroom floor with our backs against the bathtub as I cried out my insecurities and he so dedicatedly listened.

"You don't look at me like you used to, Alex," I mutter after I've calmed down. "There used to be times where you looked at me and I knew you thought I was sexy. When was the last time you considered this," I gesture to my sickly body, "To be sexy."

He kisses me right then, giving me no opportunity to say another word as he envelopes my lips with his. There's nothing careful about this kiss as he throws every ounce of passion into it, kissing and sucking and licking. He wastes no time in making his way down my neck, doing the same things to my neck in just the way he knew I liked them from so many times before. I forget all about feeling ugly as he sucks just behind my ear, getting me to moan quietly. He chuckles, pulling away and staring into my eyes.

"You are endlessly, hopelessly, sexy to me," he says, shaking his head at me as he kisses the tip of my nose. "I'd be better off it you weren't sexy, trust me," he adds and I smile because I knew we'd be sitting here for a couple of extra minutes while he...decompressed.

"Really?" I ask, almost finding it unnecessary after his rather violent attack just a couple of seconds ago. I couldn't remember the last time he'd been so urgent with me, like he needed it right then. I'd missed it more than I knew.

"Now, do you want to get out of this damned hospital or sit on the floor some more?" he asks, pulling away and standing up, holding out a hand for me to grab on to as he helps pull me from the ground.

"You know what comes next, right?" I ask, giving him a knowing smile and being sure my eyes provided a seductive glint. He rolls his eyes and kisses me briefly again.

"We're going to get stupid Christmas stuff, aren't we?" he questions, picking up the list that I'd set on the bathroom counter. "Me and my fucking promises."

1:06 PM

Alex easily slides the car into one of the wider handicap spaces, hanging our sticker on the rear view mirror before he could forget. I had nearly drifted off to sleep on the fifteen minute ride over here, the movement of the car mixed with the warm air blowing on my face lulling me to sleep. I couldn't lie, I was feeling exhausted now as I sat there, my head had leaned back as I stared out the windshield. I could easily recline my seat and doze off to sleep right now.

"Maybe we should come back later?" Alex suggests hesitantly, and I can understand why. I'm sure I don't look like the vision of health right now.

"No, I'm good," I insist, sitting up and trying to make myself perk up by opening the door and letting thirty degree air blow on me. "Just was feeling a little lazy." I'm sure after my break down a half hour ago that Alex won't push it and make me go home, and I'm right as he turns the car off and unbuckles his seat belt, getting out.

He goes around back of the car and I hear the trunk open. I get myself out as well, a little hesitantly, checking my steadiness before proceeding. Still good, I decided, just a little sleepy was all. Damn car ride. "Shit," I hear him curse just before I reach the back of the car.

"What happened?" I ask, wondering what it was he was looking for in the first place. The back of the car was totally empty, which was perfect since we would have more space for whatever we bought today. I hoped he wasn't underestimating what decorating meant to me. I mean, sure he'd heard me go on and on about how the apartment would look and I had showed him my diagram multiple times, trying to get his input, but I didn't really know how much of it he was truly registering.

"I took the wheelchair out to fit stuff for moving earlier this week," he says, shaking his head at himself.

"Alex Karev," I say, placing my hands on my hips. "Did you really think you would be pushing me around Target in a wheelchair for our Christmas shopping?" I ask. I had no intention of letting being sick get in the way of any of my festivities this year. Including how I shopped.

"Iz, I've seen you shop," he tells me, rolling his eyes in memory, I was sure. I'd dragged him along a couple of times and he even complained of the way I grocery shopped. I wasn't a girl who spent her life in a mall, but I did like to take my time and make wise decisions in my purchases. Christmas shopping was an entirely different spectrum, however. "No way can you make it through all of the stuff you want and not completely wear yourself out."

I sigh, feeling annoyed at his insistence of my incompetency. I got it, I did, but I still didn't want him seeing me as some invalid who couldn't shop. But then I remembered the staples still remaining in my skull and gave him credit. "I'll tell you what," I bargain, taking his cold hands in mine, threading our fingers together as we faced one another. I exhaled, my breath crystallizing in the freezing air. "We start now, and if I get too tired to keep going we can stop and go home and nap or whatever."

He smiles, kissing me and then pulls his jacket off, draping it over my shoulders. "We're buying you a coat while we're here too though," he instructs me and I nod. I had a coat at home, but it was old and I never used it much before. Considering I lived in Seattle you'd think I would have a winter jacket, but every year it seemed like winter was over before I got around to it.

I wrap my arms around one of his, leaning on him lightly already as we begin making our way into the store. I wasn't tired, just yearned for the closeness between us. I breathe in deeply, sucking in the crisp smell of winter. It hadn't rained in days, but I was hopeful that when precipitation did come around, it would bring snow. I laughed at years past when we had gotten excited over black ice and the traumas it guaranteed.

We step into the entryway of the store and Alex grabs a cart, wiping it off with one of the sanitizer wipes. He was pretty anal when we went out in public about being careful of what I touched or what I needed to do before I ate. My immune system was too low to be contracting any viruses right now. A simple flu could end up being a week long hospitalization, in the best case scenario at that. "Where to first?" he asks and I pull out my list consulting it for where I wanted to start. I'm distracted as soon as we step foot into the actual store though, my eyes caught on the decorations that surrounded me.

Wreaths hung from the ceiling, giant signs depicting Christmas trees and Santa as well. Lights were strung along the store, wrapped around registers and hanging off of the ceiling. The cafe next to us smelt of apple cider and "12 Days of Christmas" played in the background as several shoppers moved throughout the store. It was exactly what I'd been imaging since being checked into the hospital on the first of December. Walking in here was like getting my first huge greeting of Christmas, and it felt wonderful.

"Should I be worried that you're smiling like that?" Alex asks, raising an eyebrow at me and pulling me out of my fantasy world.

"Don't you remember being a kid at Christmas?" I ask, stepping forward in the direction of the store where they kept all of the Christmas supplies. "Don't you remember the magic and excitement that you anticipated for days on end?" He shrugs his shoulders, staring straight ahead and not really answering my question. I can tell he's listening though, because he always gets this look in his eye when he's listening to me really closely. Almost like he's trying to save it in his memory forever. "It's still like that for me, Alex. I still get those feelings of butterflies in excitement and feel giddy every time another present gets put under the tree. And with what we do, how we live, we need all the magic we can get."

"When I was eight," he starts himself, turning into the first aisle of what appeared to be Christmas supplies. The aisle is filled with people, but that doesn't stop him from talking. "My mom tried to kill herself on Christmas. Just took my dad's shot gun and tried to shoot herself in the head." He laughs, the laugh he usually does when he's trying not to cry. "I grabbed the gun out of her hand and my dad just started freaking out. He was drunk and he started beating me, telling me I should've let her shoot herself."

I take in a deep breath, ignoring the lady shooting us an odd look from not too far away as I step between him and the shopping cart, hugging him closely. "No wonder you hate it," I mutter into his skin. My mom just burned the food every year, and I'd thought that was bad.

"I don't hate Christmas," Alex denies, pulling me off of him and looking around self-consciously. I reattach myself to his arm as I glance over my options in this aisle. It was all wrapping paper and gifts bag, many different bows and even some new, weird tape dispenser. "Now pick out some damn wrapping paper and let's get moving here."

I smile, kissing my husband on the cheek as I move through the aisles, making selection after selection. I was pleasantly surprised with how involved Alex was. He didn't just grunt and shrug his shoulders like he sometimes could and as I fully expected him to. Instead he even came up with an idea to tie the cinnamon scented pine cones into the pine we hung.

The Christmas lights are a big back and forth battle. I want white and he wants colored. I want small and he wants big. I like twinkling and he likes regular. Finally, with frustrated steps, I just go over and grab enough of my kind of lights for the tree and the sort he wants for outside on the balcony. "Compromise?" I beg and he nods.

"I still think we should get one string of twinkling and one of regular for the tree though," he suggests and I go with it, mainly because I couldn't believe how helpful he was being. The stocking aisle is one of big decisions for me. I kind of wanted to knit the stockings myself, and I was going to in the hospital, only I was too sick to focus on the wall in front of me, never mind work on knitting anything with weak, unsteady hands.

I go to take a step forward, to get a closer look at my choices, and my leg practically gives out on me, almost sending me to the ground before Alex catches me, hooking an arm securely around my waist. "You lied," he whispers, referring to the fact that I didn't tell him I was beginning to feel weak. Only, I'd figured that compared to the past few days it had been nothing and that I could keep going. Obviously not the case.

"But we aren't done yet," I whine, thrusting the list into his hands. "Look at how much more we have to get!"

"Alright, that's it," he says, leading me over to the carriage. I expect him to somehow try and push it while holding on to me, leading us both to the checkout. Only, out of utter surprise he reaches into the cart, throwing things to the upper level and shoving other items over. Then he lifts me up and over, setting me down in the carriage. "There," he says, like he'd just solved something.

"What are you doing?" I demand, feeling foolish as some of the other shoppers turned and looked at us.

"You want to finish Christmas shopping or what?" he asks, sounding irritated as he picks out two stockings, holding them up for my approval. I smile and nod, and he tosses them in the cart, right on top of me. After that it becomes a game to him as we go through the aisles, me calling out what we needed and him selecting it first and then letting me make the final decision.

We laugh as we navigate through the remainder of the store, and even though I'm riding in the back of a shopping cart with my husband pushing me around selecting Christmas decorations, I felt incredibly normal.

5:48 PM

By the time we leave the store that night the sun has already begun to set, leaving a faint light behind for us to make it to the car and load our many bags in. Never did I think he would agree to getting this much stuff, but sure enough he did and we had a cart full to prove it. I still rode in it, with a few shopping bags now placed on top of me. I had tried to insist earlier that I was feeling stronger, but he wouldn't hear it, especially once he knew I'd been walking earlier that day already. Who knew walking could be such an intense task to someone?

He helps me out of the cart, making sure my feet are firmly on the ground before beginning to unload all of the things into the back of car which, due to a lack of wheelchair, we had plenty of room for everything. I go and sit up front, drained from the most activity I'd had in a week. I was still full of Christmas magic as I sat there though, mind reeling at the thought of what I'd be doing as soon as I could start decorating the apartment.

"You bought too much crap," Alex complains as he slides into the driver's seat, turning the car on and waiting for the heat to warm up. "We don't even have a tree yet," he reminds me.

"Tomorrow?" I suggest, and he scoffs. "Fine, let's just go to the apartment," I say, settling into my seat. According to Alex the apartment was fairly close to the hospital, only a five minute drive with minimal traffic. I couldn't help consider that he might have gone and found an apartment closer to the hospital just to ease his mind during the day. I'd had a rough week, that couldn't be denied. I always had good days and bad, those were just a whole lot of bad. With my new treatment regimen we were hopeful that something like that wouldn't happen again, allowing my body to strengthen before wiping it out.

"We're on the third floor," he reminds me apologetically.

I shrug my shoulders, hardly bothered by some stairs. As long as there was a railing for my weaker days I'd be fine. "It'll be a pain for groceries, but I think we'll make it," I say. I felt I had a pretty strong grasp on what the place looked like, Alex hadn't skimped on the picture taking, but I was still excited to see the place, all put together. He pulls into a small development, driving away from the town homes and toward the apartment complexes. The buildings were as you'd expect, brick and rectangular with windows spaced evenly apart throughout. From the outside it was far from spectacular, but the inside was ours, and so it would be brilliant.

I'm out of the car before Alex even has time to turn off the engine, my energy renewed at the idea of our place. _Ours._ Not Derek's old trailer, not Meredith's unused bedroom. A whole apartment that belonged to us. It was a first step. And the first step was pretty damn exciting.

Alex catches up to me quickly and, with a dangerous glint in his eye, swings me up into his arms, like a husband carrying his bride over the threshold. "You realize you have to climb three flights of stairs, right?" I ask, laughing as he actually begins walking with me in his arms. "And then do it a few times over in order to get all of our stuff up here." It was a lot of stuff too.

He doesn't seem to have too much trouble as he climbs stairs, shifting my weight once or twice before we get to the top. He sets me down on my feet and pulls his keys out of his pocket, inserting it into the lock and turning it, revealing the very dark apartment. We walk in, and I turn to switch the light on as Alex shuts the door. As soon as I hit the switch we both jump about a foot in the air as ten people yell out "Surprise!"

"What the hell?" Alex curses, looking around. There weren't just a group of people here, but also a whole bunch of furniture, enough to appropriately fill an apartment.

"It's a house warming gift!" Meredith declares as the two us just continue to stare.

"More like a house warming house," I hear Cristina mumble from somewhere in the room. I'm surprised at how many people are here, figuring something like this would normally just be us interns along with Derek, who Meredith dragged along. But no, also here were nearly all the attendings, even Sloan, oddly enough. My head was spinning from all of the surprising and activities and people. I shake it, trying to clear it of it's foggy thoughts.

"I came for the booze," Sloan declares honestly. "But Little Grey and Big Grey are determined there can't be booze."

"Well, Izzie can't drink it," Lexie points out, giving Mark a look that suggested they might be back together. I make a mental note to look into that later with Meredith. "It's kind of rude."

"How did you all even get in here?" Alex demands, his eyes landing on Derek. "When I asked you to move the rest of my shit in I didn't mean move new shit in too," he says. I ignore the conversation as I scan the room, searching for George but coming up empty. It's then that it hits me again that I was in our apartment. Admittedly right now it felt more like everyone's apartment as they were all crammed into it, but I broke away from them all, set to go explore and see if it was everything the pictures promised.

It was more, I decided as I walked around. Our bed was gorgeous too. Whoever picked it out had excellent taste. I suspected Meredith since, it was really the only possibility if anyone thought it out.

I stand in the doorway of my new bedroom, ignoring the chaos, music, and laughing behind me. Alex comes up and grabs my hand, ready to pull me away. "Wait," I demand, tugging him feebly back. He's kind enough to come stand next to me and look in at the room. "It's our's," I say, a smile helplessly growing on my face.

"You bet," he replies, kissing me on the cheek before pulling me away to join the mosh pit of dancing Cristina had started. They were an unorthodox group, but a pretty great one.

**Another day done. I hope you all enjoyed it, despite it's extreme fluffiness. It won't stay all bunnies and rainbows, I promise, but this is a Christmas story so it can hardly be too depressing. Let me know your thoughts, I love to hear from you. I'll see you tomorrow! **


	8. Chapter 8

Alex – December 8th 12:04 AM

"Oh my god," I say as I fall onto this new couch of ours next to Izzie's feet where she lays face down on the other end. "I thought they'd never leave." She chuckles, and it comes out muffled. I was pretty sure she'd actually fallen asleep at some point during the whole endless party. "I'd feel bad for the whole buying us a house worth of furniture, but we did just let them do whatever here for six straight hours." I groan, leaning to the side until my head landed in the middle of Izzie's back.

"Go get your own bed," she mumbles, lifting her butt up to try and push the dead weight of my upper body off of her. I laugh, climbing up further so I was horizontal on the couch with her, careful to shift my weight so it didn't all fall on her. "Aleeex," she whines like a two year old, jabbing an elbow in my general direction. "Why would those people think it's okay to stay at someone's house until midnight on a Thursday?" she asks, turning her head to the side to look at me.

"Because they knew we wouldn't be able to kick them out," I remind her. "I'm surprised they didn't just move in." I chuckle, remembering how many times one of us had unceremoniously showed up at Meredith's without her ever saying a word. "Mer's is still the frat house."

"Definitely," Izzie groans. I pull myself up, my tired body protesting, and grab Izzie's hand so she's standing limply next to me. I roll my eyes at her dramatics, but remember the day she's had and feel kind of bad. "I know I said we'd break the bed in when we got it, but..."

She trails off and I catch onto what she's saying. "Not tonight," I answer. Because even if I was hornier than a whore on a Sunday, I was exhausted, and so was she. "We're getting in bed and going to sleep," I inform her. "That's it."

"Okay," she says through a yawn as we enter the bedroom. I pull down the covers to the bed, they were some combination of browns and golds, very unisex which was good over the previous very pink sheets Izzie had, and help Izzie in. I pull off her socks and she wiggles out of her jeans. She's trying to get her sweater off, but an arm gets stuck so I go over to help her. Lastly I pull of her scarf, tossing it aside with the rest of her clothes from the day. She slums back on to the bed, laying her head on the pillow and closing her eyes. She'd be snoring in five minutes.

I strip down myself, not even entertaining the idea of showering tonight as I climb in next to her, rejoicing internally at the space around me for the first time in days. The mattress was pretty damn perfect. I had to give Meredith credit, since she was the one who probably put all of this together. It was funny, first they'd given us their wedding, now they had furnished our apartment. I was a little concerned they were going to ask for our first born child in return or something, at this rate.

Despite all the room we have in this bed, we probably only end up using half of it as I slide over and find my wife, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her into me. I used to hate snuggling. I hated the word, hated the idea and hated the feeling of having some woman all draped across you while she snored away. Izzie loved it though, and I quickly found that, with most other things involving her, I was a sucker for it. She would cling to me before falling asleep usually right after we'd had sex, and then she would talk, just ramble on quietly about whatever came to her mind before she started drifting off to sleep. She'd breathe heavily after that, not necessarily a snore but you could definitely tell she was sleeping. She'd shift lightly in her sleep too, and often. I'd found that even if I rolled to the other side of the bed in my sleep she'd follow, like she was determined to stay with me. I, Alex Karev, should hate it, it was in my nature to, but for whatever reason, like everything else about this damn woman, I kind of loved it.

She snuggles down onto my chest, and I plant a goodnight kiss to the top of her head. She sighs contently and I smile, because we were here. We were here in our place, married, in love, and alive. Six months ago it was more than I could have asked for, but today it was all mine.

5:48 AM

I should leave, I knew that because if I didn't I'd be late for rounds and my idiot interns might think it wise to go and do those on there own. Which would be a disaster because my idiot interns were idiots who couldn't do anything right. So really, I should be leaving my apartment right now instead of staring at my currently unconscious wife.

She was dead to the world in her sleep, not waking up for anything short of a crisis. There was a pillow imprint on her left cheek from when she rolled over just a minute ago and she stretched out since I had gotten out of the bed, taking up well more than half of it with her limbs in every which direction.

I should have no problem leaving her. Normal people get up and go to work without their spouses everyday. Normal people don't stand around and watch others sleep no matter how cute they were. Normal people didn't have internal battles with themselves just to step out the door. Before Izzie I'd been a normal person. After Izzie I was still semi-normal, not that I didn't wake up occasionally and watch her sleep, but still pretty normal. Now I was this weird, mutant dude who had a hard time leaving his wife because she was sick.

I worried, I worried every minute of every day. I used to stop worrying when she was right next to me or when I held her in my arms, but then she went and literally died in my arms, so that didn't help me relax much anymore. I knew the odds of her heart to suddenly stop beating or brain to stop functioning weren't high. I knew she was better and that's why she was able to go home. I knew all this crap about how the body worked and how things happened, and it still didn't make the idea of leaving her much easier because if something happened and no one was here she would just die. Simple as that.

But standing around and watching her sleep wasn't an option for another week, plus I was sure I'd get bored at some point. So, I throw on my winter coat, kiss her gently on top of the head, and leave for the day, praying that in twelve hours from now I can come home to the same beautiful woman. God, when did I get so corny?

8:36 AM

"Give him one of epi and atropine! I'm gonna tube him," I shout as my hands cease their compressions and a nurse takes over while I get the supplies from an intern next to me. "Let me in," I demand to the man who was pumping the oxygen bag, he moves over to give me room. I slide in the tube, it's effortless at first, I'd done this dozen of times before, but I soon hit a block, no hope of getting it through it felt. "Shit," I curse to myself, looking up for an attending, but finding no one. "Okay, get me a 7. Hurry!" The nurse starts back on compressions while we wait and I pull out the original tube.

"Here, Dr. Karev," the petite nurse says, handing me what I asked for. Out in the hallway I can hear a woman screaming, yelling her husband's name over and over. It was distracting.

"Shut her up, would you?" I say and try again on the tube. It starts and gets stuck, just like last time, but I keep trying and manipulate it in different directions. "Damn it!" I yell, throwing it aside. I look around for a minute, my eyes landing on the sobbing woman just a few feet away from the trauma room. I know I can't just let her husband die. "I'm gonna trach him," I announce. I'd done it before, I could do it again.

"You can't do that!" the shaggy haired intern yells. I ignore him, because this was an emergency and I wasn't about to let this guy die because it wasn't necessarily advisory to perform this procedure in the middle of a room.

"Watch me," I say as some hands me a scalpel. I make the incision and hold out my free hand for the tube, setting it in place with far more ease than before. "Done," I declare, stepping back and taking a breath as the monitor reports an improvement of his heart rate and oxygen levels.

"I'm here!" Hunt yells as he bursts through the door, his yellow robe half falling off of him. "What happened?" he asks, taking in the current condition of the patient.

"I'm more cut out for trauma than you thought," I reply, referring to a conversation he'd had over O'Malley and I where he declared me unfit for trauma. Yeah I froze sometimes, but I obviously wasn't a total failure. I walk away, handing my chart over to Meredith as I walk by. "You want this guy?" I ask, gesturing to the sure to be open heart surgery guy.

"Yeah, but I have to take this down to the morgue," she answers holding up a chart. "I'd be happy to trade though," she suggests, I'm sure in a more joking manner because who, logically, hands over there case fort he second time in a row for grunt work? Alex Karev, that's who.

"Yeah sure, here." I extend the chart to her again and take the other out of her surprised hand. I didn't feel like putting up with any questions from her so I just walk away, heading to the morgue before she has time to form a coherent sentence, apparently. "Hold the elevator!" I call out, sliding in right before the doors shut. Inside are Lexie and Mark, two people who I might not particularly mind, but had seen far enough of last night.

"Hi, Alex," Lexie chirps in her peppy tone. I give her a weird look, not really caring if her and Sloan were married or not, but knowing Izzie would care if they were back together yet. They didn't look tense, but they also didn't have that disgusting habit of staring at each other with lovey eyes like they used to before.

"Nice party last night," Sloan comments. "I still say bring booze next time, though," he adds and I roll my eyes. It was funny, I used to do everything I could to suck up to this guy when I was on his service because I was so desperate to be in plastics. Now I had pretty much been corralled into peds and couldn't be happier. I could kind of get why they didn't want us to go and specialize too early now.

"Uh-huh," is all say while waiting for the elevator to finish descending. The doors open and I hightail it out of there. I poke my head into the morgue, looking to see if anyone was there. A body laid on the table, an older woman open and exposed. The difference in autopsy and surgery at a mere first glance was already extensive. You'd think it would be the same almost, just with dead people, but it wasn't even close. "I was, uh, bringing this down for Meredith Grey," I say holding up the paper.

"Okay, great," the medical examiner says. "Just put it on my desk over there," she gestures to the corner of the room where a simple metal desk sat. I shiver as I walk over there, unsure if I was bothered by the moderately cooler temperatures or the sense of death that surrounded me. I set it down and turn around to leave, facing a different body that looked recently stitched as it lay on the table. My stomach jumps into my throat when I see the face of the man. It was Izzie's friend, the one with the cancer who she always liked to sit and joke with. Joy had been all over her face the day she told me that his prognosis had been good. And now here he was, dead.

"What happened to him?" I ask, causing the mortician to send me a weird glance. She looks to the body after a second.

"Oh, him? Blood clot because of the blood thinners he'd been on from the chemo. Ironic isn't it?" I shake my head, suddenly feeling very sick to my stomach. "Hey are you okay? You look pretty green," she says, dropping the liver she'd just dug out of the lady into a scale and walking over to me. I shake my head, stepping away from the woman and the dead body that had been Henry.

"Chart's on the desk!" I announce as I get out of there as quick as possible, jamming the button for the elevator in again and again. I get on, this time it's empty, there wasn't much traffic down here in the morgue. I stay there for a minute as the doors shut, not moving or pushing any other buttons as I digest what I'd just seen. Hadn't she mentioned something the other day about him not answering his calls? That would certainly explain it. How was I going to tell her that her friend who was supposed to be cancer free in a few months now lay dead on an autopsy table?

Worst of all, what is that happened to Izzie. What if we went through all of this crap trying to keep her alive only to have her die for some other stupid reason? What if, after months and months of treatment she still ended up dying because of some stupid blood clot? I didn't think I could handle that, and I had a pretty high tolerance.

I wipe the spontaneously appearing tear off of my face and jam the button for the peds floor. I'd find Dr. Robins and get myself on a case. I needed that, real work and real surgeries. The elevator doors open on the first floor and, regretfully, O'Malley is the one to walk in. I let out a sigh of distaste, not even pretending that I didn't care he was on here.

"What happened?" George asks urgently, and I realize then that I had missed a tear before. This had to stop. All of it. All of the crying, and the worrying, and the watching her while she slept. It had to stop because it wasn't who I was. I didn't hand over surgeries and I didn't perform trachs in rooms just because I couldn't let a woman's husband die while the whole time my mind just keeps screaming "What if that was her!" I didn't try and treat O'Malley decently because some girl asked me to. And I especially didn't go Christmas shopping for five hours while pushing my wife around in a shopping cart. It wasn't what I did, and it wasn't who I was. How did someone handle that? Being completely changed without even being aware of the transformation? "Alex? Is Izzie okay?"

"Shut up," I demand harshly, frozen where I stood. "Just shut the hell up already." He doesn't say another word after that, and neither do I as I flee the elevator to the third floor pediatrics unit. "Dr. Robins!" I call out before she can disappear into a room. I sprint up to her where she stood waiting for me with an expectant stare. "Any chance you need some extra hands?" I offer hopefully.

She smiles, dumping a chart into my hand. "You'll find Robby Kreiger in room 1148. Prep him for a thoracotomy in an hour. You can scrub in with me, Alex." I take a deep breath as she goes into her patient's room, leaving me alone for a minute. I wasn't a completely different person, not really. Maybe just a little...softer.

12:22 PM

"Iz!" I yell out as I walk into our apartment with a bag of lunch in my hand. I kick my shoes off and turn around, looking in at the living room and walking a few paces to the kitchen where she stood, headphones in and spoon in hand as she went baked something or other. "Izzie!" I yell louder, and she turns, stunned for a second as she rips the headphones out of her ears and smiles widely. "You're lucky I wasn't a serial killer," I mutter as she sets down her bowl and throws her arms around me. She was very alive today.

"I'm making Christmas cookies," she says happily, gesturing to a small pile that sat on the table. She'd used food dye or something on the dough so they were all red and green circles. I scanned the rest of the kitchen and found an absurd amount of supplies laying all around. Bags of flour, sugar, and chocolate chips lay about along with tubes of icing and cookie cutters. Also a random half eaten chocolate chip banana bread sat in the corner.

"Are you feeding an army?" I question as I dip my finger into her current batter, licking it off as she swats at my arm. I can't help but remember the last time she'd baked like this. Denny had died, she had quit, and then she was literally left without anything else to do. Meredith routinely came into the hospital with a basket of muffins and George gained at least ten pounds during the whole ordeal. I'm nearly positive that she heard about Henry and had broken out her old coping mechanism.

"No, but I wanted to break out some of my old recipes to try," she answers, shrugging her shoulders. "I'll make fresh stuff for your mom and sister," she promises.

"You need to eat," I explain to her, holding up the food I'd brought from Joe's. I was hoping she was feeling well enough for a real meal. I'd decided, with her recent weight loss becoming more and more noticeable, that'd I'd really try and help her get all of the nutrients she could right now. "And we need to talk."

She shoots me a mildly worried look as she sets down her spoon and pulls off her apron, revealing her usual sweats. "Is everything okay?" she questions, knowing me well enough to understand that something wasn't so right at the moment.

"How do you like the kitchen?" I ask, handing her a cheeseburger and fries and then unpacking my own. She raises an eyebrow at me, obviously aware that I didn't gravely mention the need to talk to chat about our kitchen.

"Alex," she says slowly, prompting me with her eyes.

"Oh, right," I say, reaching back into the paper bag. "Ketchup," I say and throw some packets in her direction. I grab my burger and take big bite out of it, feeling the grease run down my chin, disgustinly enough.

"Alex," she says again. "Did something happen at work?" she asks, concerned. I hold a french fry up to her and she rolls her eyes, taking it an nibbling on the end. Great, now I'd worried her so she wouldn't eat, and after I'd told her she would be too depressed to eat. Talk about a lose/lose situation. I considered coming up with a fake, miniscule problem, but decide against it.

"It's about Henry," I say quietly and her eyes immediately water. "Izzie, he didn't make it," is how I say it and she looks down, a tear dripping onto her napkin.

"I knew it," she says quietly. "I knew something like that must have happened." She takes in a deep breath and looks back up at me a small, sad smile on her face. "How'd it happen?"

I don't want to say because she'd lost someone to blood clots before, and he'd been the love of her life, at least he had been at the time, I liked to think. I didn't want to explain that the very same thing had happened to her strange, old friend. I debated in my mind, if she deserved the truth or the kindness of a lie. I didn't believe in lying, I never tried to spare patients feelings or soften the blow, but this was my wife, and she needed someone to make life a little less painful sometimes. "They're not sure," I say instead, still unsure if I want to lie as the words come out of my mouth. "You okay?" She still doesn't move at all.

"Yeah," she answers and gives me a brief smile, and beginning no her own grease patty. She doesn't talk for the rest of the meal and when she finishes is back to her baking, sending me out the door with a plate of cookies for everyone.

3:16 PM

I wander around the pediatrics oncology unit, not entirely sure of where I was going just yet. I carry a small plate of cookies with me as I search, poking my head quickly into rooms to see if there's a familiar face. I'm pretty sure the nurse is about to ask me to leave when I have finally found the girl I was looking for, in the state my wife had been a few days ago, but still alert and tiredly reading a book. I knock on the door a couple of times as I step in, finding her alone. "Hey," I say, holding up her cookies. "Early birthday cookies," I tell her and set them down on her table.

"Alex," she says happily, sitting herself up in the bed. "Thanks," she smiles brightly at them. "Don't tell me you bake?" she asks, looking far too amused at the idea.

"Hell no, that's all my wife," I explain though I was obviously not the baking kind of guy. "How's the chemo going?" I ask, despite her less than joyous appearance.

"As it usually does," she answers with a shrug of her shoulders. "So is your wife better?"

"Oh yeah, driving me crazy with her Christmas decorating mania." I try not to smile as I say it, but can't help it as I remember her enthusiasm last night as we went all through the store and she explained to me in detail how she intended to use some of her things. I could've done without the painstakingly long decision process of selecting lights though.

"That's good," she sounds genuinely happy as she says it. "So did you just miss your favorite patient so much that you had no choice but to find some excuse to come see me?" she asks, grinning cheekily and sounding intensely like Izzie. I shook my head, obviously just having a head full of thoughts of my wife at home who was either sitting in a corner crying or baking until the apartment imploded on us with cupcakes and cookies.

"Something like that," I answer, checking my watch since Robby's follow up was soon. "Listen, I have to go, but you have a good birthday, alright? And put bread in with the cookies if you want to keep them fresh longer."

She smiles at me then. "I knew you had some part in this whole baking thing," she says and I roll my eyes. I turn and wave goodbye as I go, looking back at the rather sick looking girl.

8:11 PM

I step into the apartment tentatively that night, entirely unsure what I would find once I got in there. I knew Izzie's coping mechanisms a little too well to not be concerned with what I'd be coming home to. I thought for sure I'd walk in on Santa's freaking village with a muffin being shoved into my mouth. I'm surprised to find, instead, a rather normal looking apartment that looked extremely similar to last night with a few added touches like lamps and pictures. I didn't have a clue where it came from, but they looked nice all the same.

I walk into our room, finding her laying, wide awake, on the bed. She looks up as I walk in and sits up in the bed. "Will you help me decorate?" she asks sadly, hauling up one of the many bags that sat on the floor of her side of the bed. "I sorted everything we would need into the area it would go in, and Mer and I went for a little shopping trip on her break to get some of the more crucial things we forgot, like nails."

I smile, sitting down next to her and planting a kiss on her bare head, the scarf long since abandoned and hold up a Christmas CD I'd borrowed/stolen from the hospital. "We can decorate all night, if you want," I tell her and she smiles, throwing her arms around me and sobbing into my shoulder.

"He was getting better!" she declares, and I know then that the same thing that had been bothering me most about his death were bothering her too. Just a few days ago we were told that Izzie was doing well, could be in remission within the year. Now, her friend who had been promised the same thing, was dead.

"I know, Iz," I say kindly, rubbing her back. "It'll be okay."

She stops after a few minutes, sighing heavily and pulling away. "Okay, I'm ready now," like she had to cry before she could begin getting ready for Christmas. We set to work though. I insist Izzie take it easy, having jobs like handing me the nails or laying out her fake snow while I did the more active jobs. I hang the mistletoe and holly and string lights out on our balcony (which was really just a box and a railing.) Half way through on the hallway and I take one look at her, where she stands half asleep while attempting to nail one of the stockings in the wall and mumbling the words to "Jingle Bell Rock" to herself. I go over, pulling the hammer from her hand before she can do any damage and give her a look.

"Can we go to bed?" she actually asks me herself and I nod, taking her by the hand and leading her the short distance to our bedroom. She falls onto the bed immediately while I search a few of the boxes strewn on our floor for my shampoo and soap.

"Go to sleep," I tell her before I leave to go shower. "I'll be back in a few minutes." She nods tiredly as she changes her clothes. I drop what's in my arms right to the floor then, walking over and planting a kiss right on her lips, holding her to me as I kiss her like I hadn't done so in days. I needed her. Every day, I needed her and I needed to show her that. So I kissed her like my life depended on it and like for once in our lives we weren't exhausted or she wasn't sick. I kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered right now and she responded in the ferocity. We forgot about cancer and Henry and the crappy half job I seemed to have now. We forgot about Christmas and cookies and apartments. It was her and it was I and the electricity and passion between us was as fresh and powerful as it had always been.

I pull away after a few minutes, knowing I'd be very unwilling to stop if we went any further. She tries to keep me going, kissing me more and assaulting the buttons on my shirt as she tries and removes it. I still her hands and pull away again. "Not tonight," I say regretfully, remembering the times in my life when I'd had sex on a regular basis, a common occurrence of every day life, it was. Now I had to have the patience for my wife to not be half dead before I could even think about it. A few years ago and I don't think I'd have made it. A few years ago and I don't think I'd have been able to do it. Not the cancer or the lack of sex, and definitely not the marriage. I'd changed, in many many ways, and it might bother me some days when I was crying in elevators but I'd changed for the better by her. Izzie not only showed me I was a good man, but every day she made me a little bit better, and if part of that meant no sex for a few more days, then I could do that.

So with one more kiss to the top of her head and glance at her happy smile is what I take with me to walk away and go shower, anticipating the return to my wife in a few hours so I could fall asleep in her arms.

**Early update today! Also, I had no time to proofread this so please excuse any misspellings or less than articulate sentences. Thank you for the reviews yesterday. You guys gave awesome feedback! I really think your input helps me create a better chapter so keep it coming, even if it isn't always positive :) I'll see you tomorrow!**


	9. Chapter 9

Izzie – December 9th 10:04 AM

I stretch, rolling away from the obnoxious sunlight that was shining through the windows. It was oddly bright, unlike most mornings when the light was dull and blocked by the ever constant cloud bank of Seattle. I had minimum motivation to get up and go inspect what had brought it on, but when I pry my eyes open to glance at the clock I nearly jump out of bed, unwilling to believe I'd slept that long. I had things I wanted to get done today! I needed to finish some of the decorations and get started on my practice round of chocolate chip cookies. Plus I'd wanted to surprise Alex at work with a homemade lunch. It was one thing to lay around in bed all day when I'd been in the hospital, but I should be feeling better now, meaning I needed to do more.

I go straight to the bathroom, but soon realize I was doing too much after having just gotten out of bed and sit on the edge of the tub with my head in my hands to cease the spinning of the room. I hardly found it necessary to pay much attention to it, head rushes were common for people who weren't on chemo too. I shake my head, clearing my foggy brain and turn the shower on, letting the water heat up as I strip out of the little clothing left on my body and get in, relieving in the hot water.

The idea that I'd missed so much of the day already was depressing. Pre-cancer I had gotten up at five thirty every morning. I'd showered, ate breakfast and made it to work with time to spare most mornings. I filled the day with rounds and surgeries and sutures. Even when I'd been unemployed for a short time I had still done something. True, we had more baked goods than the Muffin Man, but I didn't just lay around for the day. I knew Alex would approve of my state of laziness, as would Meredith and Bailey and George (if he were talking to me) but I didn't care for it one bit.

It's as I'm walking from the bathroom to my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my wet body that I pause for just a second, looking out the window to find a clear sheet of snow covering the ground. If it were possible, my smile would have split my face as I looked out over the yard. I could imagine all of the exciting traumas that were coming in at Seattle Grace right now, along with all of the really stupid ones of kids hitting trees whilst sledding.

I could feel bad for missing out at work, but instead I just rejoiced at the thought of taking a walk through the cold, glorious snow. It was another thing no one else got, my love of snow. It went along with the whole loving Christmas thing. When you're a kid, you wake up and you find snow and you just know the day is going to be great. It was like this magical gift that showed up out of nowhere, brightening your day and making everything seem just a little bit better. There was hot chocolate, and snowmen, and sledding, it was every kid's favorite event, the first day of snow; something we could all rejoice in together as we stayed home from school with no parents and did whatever. As a child I'd always thought that it was the Christmas gift from the baby Jesus everyone was always talking about.

Now, at twenty eight years old, I still got that excited rush in my body as I saw snow for the first time, reveling in the holiday feel of it. Were I not so unstable I'd have gone for a walk in it as soon as I'd gotten dressed. But I was still weak and, regretfully, tired, so I set aside the idea for a later time, really just wanting to crawl back into bed where my legs wouldn't be shaking so greatly.

12:26 PM

"Knock, knock," I hear Meredith's voice as the front door opens. "We brought lunch!" I put down the picture I'd been trying fruitlessly to hang. My arm was too weak, falling slack as I tried to hold the frame up and make it level. I'd been up for two hours and was exhausted from the minimal amount of work I'd accomplished in terms of decorating. I hated it, because all the years before I could cover Meredith's entire house with Christmas decorations in three hours. What a depressing contrast.

I quickly find a scarf to secure to my head hastily, not really having the time to wrap it as expertly as I sometimes did. I didn't care who it was. If it were anyone but Alex, I wanted my scalp covered one way or another.

"Mer?" I question, because I'd heard nothing from her before on her coming and also because I was unaware she was in possession of a key. I suppose of all people who would have to have a key to come check on me I'd prefer Meredith over, say, Derek or Dr. Bailey.

"Surprise," she says, a very fake cheery expression on her face. I rolled my eyes, I didn't need fake Christmas cheer around me, it killed the real Christmas mojo.

"Did Alex send you?" I ask, looking to the clock on the wall. I had really wanted to bring him lunch today, although it seemed like that was out of the question now.

"No, can't I just come visit you, Izzie?" she answers, although I'm dubious. Between the cancer and Henry having died I knew someone was just worrying. Be it Alex, or Meredith, or ever so uncharacteristically Cristina. Six months ago it would have been George wanting to check on me. He'd come by and we would talk about all of the dumb hospital rumors and play chess. That was six months ago, though. That was when George didn't hate me for getting cancer.

"I guess if you're bringing me food," I say hopefully as I glance to the bags in her hands.

"Oh we brought food alright," Cristina replies as she walks out of my kitchen, biting into an apple. "I think Meredith's trying to feed you like a bear before hibernation."

I smile, feeling the now odd sensation of hunger when I considered food. I remembered the days when I could just eat tubs of butter. Now I was lucky to make it through half a hamburger. "Any of that include chocolate?" I lead them to the kitchen, even though Cristina had already made her way there earlier. I flip on the overhead lights and clear off the baking supplies from the kitchen table Meredith and Derek had gotten us. It was a cherry wood with four chairs, just what we needed for when Alex's family came to visit next month. It wasn't some cheap table either, it looked like it was from one of those high end furniture stores that I only ever saw through the commercials on TV.

Cristina sets about unloading the many paper grocery bags, and also takes her iPod and plugs it in, turning the music up so she can dance around to it. I swear, you'd never think it of Cristina Yang, but she loved to dance more than anyone I knew. If I had a dollar for all the times I had come home to find her and Meredith dancing offbeat in the living room, well then I'd be able to pay Meredith and Derek back for my fully furnished apartment. I sit down as she starts throwing together sandwiches as she dances around, initially ignoring her.

"You guys didn't have to do this," I say, secretly glad once I considered the fact that I had absolutely no food in this new apartment of mine aside from beer and leftover chips and dip from the party two nights ago. "The whole party and furnishing thing was plenty, really."

"Yeah, Mer, where's my fully furnished apartment? Do I really have to get cancer first?" Cristina asks condescendingly. She really could be a bitch.

Meredith rolls her eyes, effectively ignoring the question. "We were happy to, Izzie," is all she says in return and I feel sick from all of the niceness. Meredith wasn't this nice, not to her friends unless she thought they needed coddling. I did not need any coddling.

I decided to over look it though, trying my best to prove to her just how unnecessary it was. "You know what we should do Sunday?" I open, exciting myself at the prospect. No one says anything, Cristina not even hearing me and Meredith merely giving me a questioning look. "Christmas shopping!" I declare, smiling brightly at the prospect. I'd done my Christmas decoration shopping, now I needed to do my Christmas gift shopping. It was a process, Christmas was.

"You two have fun with that," Cristina says with a face. "I'm gonna go into work and get myself some surgeries."

"Oh you have to come," Meredith tells her, shooting her a look when she thinks I'm not looking. "It sounds like fun, Iz. I still need to get Derek something anyhow."

I pause after she says that, and realize I didn't have the slightest clue what to get Alex. It wasn't that I was a bad gift buyer. I was a great gift buyer, best around, but we hadn't ever really exchanged gifts before and it wasn't like he was the most materialistic type of guy. Over the year I'd known Alex I had come to discover he really liked two things: beer and sex. Beer was in the fridge and, as a married couple, sex was kind of a given.

"What are you going to get Hunt?" Meredith asks Cristina, who just rolls her eyes and takes a heaping bight out of her tuna fish sandwich.

"I don't do holidays, Mer. He knows that," is her simple response. I usually hated that outlook she had, that the whole Christmas season was entirely unnecessary and Thanksgiving was no more important of a day than any other Thursday. I loved the holidays, everyone knew that, but right now I was mildly enviable of Cristina's thoughts. She didn't have to worry for a second over what to get her boyfriend.

"You can't just not get him anything," I insist, refusing to let her be the only one not required to go through this. "I'm sure he's gotten you something."

She shrugs her shoulders, taking another huge bite of her sandwich. My stomach growled just from watching her eat. "I said I didn't do holidays and he said okay. That was it," she says around her food. "Not everyone lacks understanding like Burke."

"You must have at least put up a tree?" I ask, unbelieving that someone could entirely just, skip over Christmas. It wasn't ethical.

"Callie and Arizona did. I had no part in it though," she answers nonchalantly. I shook my head at the idea of somehow not even caring about skipping Christmas. "Besides, I'm Jewish or whatever."

I roll my eyes, she obviously didn't care what she was and just wanted an excuse to skip Christmas. "Then you owe him seven gifts," I point out, remembering the lessons in school on Hanukkah and Kwanza faintly. They always really tried to make them as big of a deal for the two kids who celebrated something different, but it never really worked. Who wanted to sing about dreidels anyway? "You'll feel bad when he's gotten you something and you have nothing."

"You're annoying," she says to me point blank.

"Cristina!" Meredith reprimands, like a mother to her child. It was kind of funny actually, the way Meredith's face adapted an ashamed look as she glared in Cristina's direction. I couldn't help it as I laughed, utterly amused by the whole situation. Cristina shrugs her shoulders again at me, which probably would have been the same reaction if she'd made me cry. She didn't like me, I didn't like her. But she had saved my life, and I had chosen her for my maid of honor. So even though we kind of hated each other, I obviously would trust her with my life. Even if she did think I was annoying.

I'm laughing still as I shake my head at them. "And you're coming shopping with us," I decide for her, daring her to deny a cancer ridden, ex-resident her wish. She doesn't.

3:46 PM

I pull my final batch of cookies for the day out of the oven and lay them on the counter top, trying to focus in on one to see if it they were finished cooking. My vision blurred though, not taking in what I stood staring at. I close my eyes, giving them the rest they were begging for. When I open them next they sting, unwilling to be put to work again, and my head protests with a pound. I lean forward and grip the counter top as I breathe heavily, trying to calm myself.

I was tired. There should be no reason that I'm tired, but I was. I wanted to stay awake and clean, or hang the wreath on our door, or something, but my eyes just did not want to stay open. It was another useless feeling, and I was beginning to despise it.

I surrender my pot holders, having the good conscious to look and make sure the over had been shut off before slowly making my way to the couch, unwilling to spend another minute in a bed. I lay down, finding how I sink into the cushions to be extremely comforting as I let my eyes drift shut and gratefully fall asleep.

6:12 PM

I've just finished stringing what was left of lights for the balcony, after having fought with the electrical outlet for twenty minutes, and stand back to admire them as I hear the front door swing open. I smile, mildly ecstatic that we could walk through that door and declare it our home now.

After my mid-day nap I had woken up feeling refreshed, and far less like a sloth as I made decent progress around the house. Despite how reluctant I had been originally, I was feeling extremely grateful that I'd napped earlier now. Maybe I could actually sit and spend time with Alex without it being him trying to coax me to sleep or I dozing on and off while we talked. It was pathetic really, the amount I slept.

"I made dinner!" Alex calls out, and I go in shutting the balcony door behind me to keep out the below freezing air from our cozy apartment. Alex sets a pizza down on the counter and pulls out a six pack for him, and a bottle of grape juice for me. I smile as I go up and kiss him in greeting. "I knew we didn't have more than day old, cheap dip laying around here so..." he starts to say, but trails off as he opens the fridge door and finds it fully stocked. "Whatever," he says and shrugs his shoulders as he pulls out a piece of pizza and takes a bite, offering me a slice of my own.

I take the piece of everything pizza minus the peppers, just as I liked it, and smile gratefully. "I was going to cook for you," I inform him. I'd had two intentions to make something for Alex today, both fell through. "But you're kind of home insanely early."

"Yeah," he answers like it was no big deal. There was at least a foot of snow out there. No way were there not a lot of accidents rolling in. "I thought we'd go get a tree tonight."

I smile, grateful at both the idea of getting to put the real touch of Christmas on our place as well as get out of the house for a couple of hours. "You left work early to go walk through the snow and pick out a Christmas tree?" I ask incredulously. Because, as happy as it may make me, I knew this wasn't Alex's sort of thing. None of this had been Alex's sort of thing. Not the shopping, or the party, or the whole inviting his family. He didn't like any of this stuff, not really, but he kept doing it all for me irregardless, even going as far as to prompt it himself. I couldn't help but wonder if he was expecting this to be my last Christmas.

"I left work early 'cause O'Malley stole my surgery and Bailey wanted me to go suture in the pit," he says, sounding irritated. I stare at him questioningly. Generally when you were told to go suture, you went and sutured. You didn't just get to leave because you wanted to. "I'm just sick of suturing," he answers.

"Mhm," I say, but relent and smile which he responds to immediately as he smiles himself and then kisses me. "We could just stay in," I try and say as seductively as possible. I liked our little make out sessions that were becoming more and more frequent, but I could use something more. The moment is thrown away, however, by my stomach's revolt of the ever so greasy pizza. I dart to the bathroom, making it just in time as the barely digested pizza makes a reappearance. "Ugh," I groan as I spit the remnants of the vomit into the toilet before wiping my nose and flushing. I stand and brush my teeth, trying furiously to rid the taste of puke from my mouth as quickly as possible.

Alex comes up behind me, pulling off my scarf and throwing it on the bathroom floor. I turn and stare in question, tooth brush still in my mouth. "You got some puke on it," he says quietly. His stare is concerned as he watches me spit. His hand going to my forehead as I face him. I swat it away.

"It's not an infection, Alex," I say impatiently. I wouldn't mess around if I thought it was. Infections were deadly in people like me. An hour too late could mean a missed chance for them to save you. "It was just a bit much to be eating right away."

He doesn't look totally convinced, but doesn't try and measure my temperature again. "Maybe we shouldn't go out though," he suggests and it makes me want to cry. I wasn't going to get sex, okay I could live with that, but I didn't want to miss out on my tree too, now. I take a deep breath, regulating my emotions that somehow got out of hand. It happened a lot on the days following chemo.

"Please, Alex," I beg. "I'll go in the wheelchair, if you want." I suggest it begrudgingly, hopeful that he would just recognize how badly I wanted to go and relent.

"I don't think I can push you through a foot of snow," he reminds me, still giving me that look, like I might fall over any second.

"Well strap me to a sled then," I suggest, taking his face in my hands and staring at him. "Please?" I say again. He didn't get it, I knew that. I always knew how much he didn't get it, but he needed to understand, just for a couple of hours, how important it was. He'd been great, with shopping and decorating and tolerating my baking. He had been entirely un-Alex like through the whole process. "I took a nap today," I throw in for bargaining.

"Fine," he relents, rolling his eyes. "But we're just going to one of those stands and getting one," he insists, which I could handle perfectly fine. I didn't need to go into the woods and cut my own tree down, hell no. "And I'm finishing my pizza first."

I smile, holding my hands up to show he was free to eat. He goes to the kitchen as I make my way to the bedroom and begin searching through a box for some clothes to wear. Alex's method of moving our things had been...interesting. What I'd gathered so far was his plan had been: Scoop up bundle of clothing, dump in box, tape hastily. It made for finding something not totally wrinkled a bit more challenging.

I settle on a pair of jeans and one of my old, long sleeved T-shirts that I used to often wear under my scrubs. Next came digging out boots, and gloves, and scarves, it was a tedious process. Meredith had selected a dresser for our room, maybe we should consider putting it to use. I couldn't honestly remember the last time either of us put things away in a dresser instead of throwing it on the floor or folding it and flopping it down on the rarely used kitchen table.

I pull my stuff on, along with the new winter jacket Alex had insisted I get when we'd gone Christmas shopping. I walk out, prepared to leave to find Alex heating up a can of soup. I wrinkle my nose, both in distaste for eating anymore soup as well as in remembrance of vomiting no more than twenty minutes ago. I could see where this was going, meaning I wouldn't even bother questioning it. I do take off my gloves and coat though, while I wait.

"Eat," he says as he sets a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of me. He goes to our boxes to dig out a spoon and I watch him roll his eyes. "This is why I tried to put silverware on the Christmas list," Alex says as he holds up a fork. "I can't even find the one spoon we had."

"We can stop at Kohl's," I promise in order to placate him. "I need a hat anyway." I used to have a head full of hair, now without anything on my head I could only imagine how cold it would be. I didn't really desire to find out. "In the mean time," I say and take the fork from his hand. "I'm going to eat."

7:33 PM

"Silverware, cups, towels, hat, and toothpaste," I read off of the list. "Toothpaste?" I ask, sending him a curious glance as we walked toward the back of the store with the kitchen stuff. "You know how Kohl's works, right?"

"It's for later," he grumbles, snatching the list out of my hand and sticking it in his pocket. We walk over to the cutlery displays, examining words like "sterling silver" and "dishwasher safe." "Couldn't they have just bought us this while they were at it?" he asks as he picks up one of the display knives and scans it. "I hardly see how this is worth seventy dollars."

I had to be honest, I didn't either, but I didn't really want any of that flimsy steel stuff or cheap silver improvs, so I thought here would be best. "Here, this one is forty percent off," I say, picking up a different set that really looked identical.

"Ten dollars more though," Alex says as he points to the conversion chart. "Good thing we didn't have to buy furniture," he mutters to himself as he picks up the seventy dollar pack. "Cups?"

"Cups," I confirm. "Glasses, really." We had cups around the house, ones we'd stolen from Derek. They were great for soda and juice but, with actual people coming I thought it might be a good idea to have some glasses around as well. At least it'd be a little less tacky if we had a nice meal or something. I honestly wasn't sure what I should be expecting from the whole ordeal. Would we go out or stay in? Did they wake up early or late? Should I plan stuff to do or just go with it? I didn't have a clue, and I didn't care for bringing it up to Alex as he usually got all sulky after it. Plus, I kind of doubted how much he would know anyhow. A lot changes in six years. "We should get place mats." I stop as we pass the section, browsing over what might jump out at me.

"This is as bad as Target," he sighs, commenting on my lack of focus. "Trees, remember?" he prompts. I wave him off for a second as I grab four place mats, all a reddish brown patter to match the walls and wood. Alex grabs a pack of glasses and then loops an arm around my shoulders, leading me back toward clothes to pick a hat and then get me out of the store.

8:02 PM

He puts the car in park as I pull my yellow scarf off, replacing it with the hat I'd just bought. It seemed foolish to keep a scarf on my head as well. Underneath all of my layers I didn't think anyone would be able to pick up on my lack of hair anyhow. The tree lot was busy, filled with late shoppes like ourselves, selecting their trees. Kids ran around excitedly, shouting out when they found a tree they really liked and calling their parents over. Couples walked hand in hand as they perused their options leisurely. Then there was also the occasional sulking teenager in the mix, as you would be bound to find anywhere. A big sign advertising thirty dollar trees sits in front and salesmen move throughout as they help buyers select what they want and tie it to the top of their car.

I get out of the car, and Alex follows. I grab onto his arm for support as we walk down the slope into the pit of trees. The snow is still soft, my feet sinking into the powder without getting the unfortunate slushy feeling in my boots. I was grateful it had frozen over yet, making it icy and impossible to stay balanced. "We forgot to measure the ceiling, didn't we?" I ask, knowing that we'd need to stay within a certain height requirement if we intended to have our tree stand erect.

"We'll make it work," he says as he comes to a standstill before entering the mass of trees.

"Come on," I prompt, giving his arm a tug like an impatient child. He follows quickly, eyes scanning with mine as we search the masses. "My mom always used to try and pick a tree way too big for our trailer," I reminisce. "In the end we would end up having our neighbor shave off over half the bottom just to get the thing to stand up. He'd always cut it crooked so our tree lent to one side. She never learned though." I laugh to myself at the memory, how stubborn she would be in believing our place was too small for it, insisting we could just "make it work."

"What can I help you folks with?" an overly enthusiastic salesman comes and asks. I smile, caught up in the Christmas feel of the scenario to be annoyed by his obviously over done, fake enthusiasm. I was sure Alex was annoyed by him though, so I decided I'd be nice for the both of us. "We have a great deal on toasters," he jokes awkwardly. It's a terrible joke, but I giggle anyhow, because that's the sort of thing you do at Christmas.

"We were thinking of trees, actually," I respond, going along with it.

"Ah, good choice," he says and begins leading us down the aisle. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Nothing too tall," I say, trying to visualize in my mind the space between the ceiling and Alex's head. "But something nice and full."

"I've got just the thing!" He leads us past a few rows and down one marked "Forty Dollar Trees" and presents one to us with a big, "Perfect isn't it?" Now, normally I would notice his trying to make us spend more sort of deal and deny it, for the mere moral of the matter, but see the tree, really was perfect. It stood just a head taller than Alex and me, leaving enough room at the top for a star, and had wide, thick branches accompanying a perfect pine smell. It didn't get much more perfect than this.

I smile widely at the salesman and nod. "We'll take it," I determine, turning to Alex as an afterthought. He shrugged, not really caring as I assumed.

"Wonderful," he says and snaps his fingers for a few men to come and help him take it down. "So, how long have you two been together," he asks, making polite chit-chat as the men behind him work.

"Just got married a couple months ago," I answer, smiling. The thought of my wedding day was probably one of my favorite memories. It had been just as I'd envisioned it when I was little. Aside from the whole cancer thing, that was a little different. Still, it'd been pretty damn perfect.

"Any plans for kids?" he asks, causing Alex to raise a nervous eyebrow at me, almost like a question he was afraid to hear the answer to.

I laugh, because it's so absurd for him to be afraid of children when he's been selected for pediatrics because of how he can relate to kids. Meredith had told me over lunch how she had seen him with some of them. It might have something to do with him still being eight on the inside though. "Not right now," I answer, my mind jumping to our frozen embryos before falling back onto the cancer I still had to get through today.

A toddler let's out a wail just then, plopping down in the snow and refusing to move as he sobs. It's loud, high pitched, and very obnoxious. "Maybe we'll get a dog first."

10:45 PM

"That's all we're doing tonight," Alex says as we step back and look at the now set up tree. I'd had to direct him pretty much step by step through the entire process since, I was surprised to learn, he had never gotten a real tree before. Only one of those dinky artificial things that they set up on a folding table because it was so short. I couldn't help the pity, though I knew he'd hate it, at the idea that he never had a real Christmas. It was no wonder he didn't care for the holiday if he'd never really celebrated it! I hoped I would be able to give his sister just as good of a holiday too. His mother still left me entirely unsure however.

"Mkay," I agree simply. Despite my nap earlier that day I was exhausted and well ready for bed. He helps me into bed, and it's another night of pajama less sleeping. Tonight he doesn't get in the shower, instead climbing into bed next to me. I reach my hand out to find him and bring his warm arm around my body. "I'm going shopping with Meredith and Cristina on Sunday."

"Cristina Yang?" he asks with a laugh. "Good luck with that." I roll my eyes, though I know it will be an interesting experience indeed. "I should probably call my sister tomorrow."

"Alex!" I reprimand. "You were supposed to do that days ago."

"I bought the tickets like you said," he says in his defense. "I've just been...busy."

"Procrastinating," I correct, but he distracts me with kissing me behind my ear. "Buying tickets without knowing if they're even coming is a waste of money...Alex," I say, easily getting derailed. Were I not so drop dead tired I'd probably flip him over and reenact some old memories of the pre-cancer era.

He stops his nibbling and sucking as he answers me. "But spending seventy dollars on forks and spoons is totally fine?"

"You're really stuck on that, aren't you," I say, rolling my eyes as this was about the third time he had brought it up tonight. "The silverware will get used."

"And they will come," he says simply, declaring it the end of discussion as he kisses my cheek. "Now go to sleep."

That's about all the prompting I need as I close my eyes and drift off, dreaming through the night about dancing trees, talking cookies, and suicidal chemo bags.

**I know, it's pretty late at night for a post! Sorry, it's been a crazy day. Thanks to everyone who reviewed recently. It really helps with the whole, writing 5-6,000 words a day. Also, I'm glad there still seem to be people reading and enjoying it. I hope you all continue to! If there is anything specific you'd like to see just let me know and I can try and fit it in. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	10. Chapter 10

Alex – December 10th 5:30 AM

My alarm starts to go off, but it stops before I even have the chance to react to it. I force my eyes open, finding the source that stopped it and see Izzie, sitting up against the headboard with a medical book propped against her drawn up knees and a flashlight in her hand. I stare at her, confused. Even when we were both healthy we never woke up before the alarm. Now she was sick and worn down and she was sitting around at five in the morning reading a book.

"Iz?" I ask when she says nothing. Her eyes are bloodshot and bags are beneath them. She gives me this pathetic smile and I pull the flashlight out of her hands, shutting it off and setting it down, taking the book too. "Couldn't sleep?" I question, though it seemed awfully obvious to me. She nods so I pull her down beneath the covers, letting her tuck her head against my shoulder.

"I kept dreaming," she sighs. "First it was just stupid stuff, like dancing trees and such."

"Did you do cocaine before going to bed again?" I joke and she smiles.

"But then it turned into different stuff. Like George being eaten by a bear and Cristina attacking me with a scalpel."

"Uh-huh," I say skeptically. "No wonder you weren't sleeping," I mutter as I consider how terrifying Cristina with a scalpel would be. "You should stop reading and try to now, though." I pull the covers up around trying, to keep them away from myself so I didn't end up just falling back to sleep with her. "And if this keeps up maybe we should do something..." I suggest it because, even if it had only been one night so far, she of all people needed her sleep.

"I'm fine," she deflects as she kisses my shoulder. "I'm sick of you going to work though."

I sigh, pulling her in a little closer. "Six more days," I remind her. We lay there for a short while longer, my mind endlessly going on if I got up now and took this long to get ready I could be to work at this hour. Eventually her breathing evens out and I extract myself from her grip, covering her before going to get ready for my day ahead.

11:38 AM

I drum my fingers on the surface of the table in the cafeteria as the phone rings, looking around to see who might be close enough to overhear. I find a group of interns at the next table over and decide to hang up and just call later when a confused "Hello?" comes out of the phone.

"Hey," I try to say as calmly as possible. "Amber? It's me, uh, Alex, your brother." I pause, waiting to hear her response, or if she even had one. After a couple of seconds of silence I pull the phone away from my ear to check and see if I'm even still connected. "Hello?"

And then she laughs. Not just a chuckle, but a real, long, loud laugh. She sounds amused, which I'm sure to a point she is but I know better than to assume we'd sit here and laugh together. "Are you kidding me?" she asks.

"Er, no?" I respond, because it was obviously a rhetorical question but I had nothing else to say instead. "Listen, I know it's been a while-"

"A while?" she asks, her voice dry. "A while is a month or two, not six years. I really thought that whole wife deal was a prank call."

I'm not sure what to say, because it should have been a prank call, in comparison to the truth, it would have been better were it a prank call. But in my head, Amber was still ten years old in her polka dot rain boots. She didn't need lengthy explanations or have bitter feelings. I obviously missed that transition.

"So it's true then, huh?" She sounds like she'd pondering the idea herself, one of having her big brother married. It would be an easier image to process had I shown any inclination toward relationships and families when she'd last seen me. "And what? You actually expect me and mom to hop on a plane tomorrow and come visit you and your happy little family for Christmas?"

"Not tomorrow, exactly." I sigh, I know I shouldn't ask her to come, and especially not my mom, in fact, I should be asking them not to come. Izzie wanted this though, and I couldn't lie, after sitting around talking about my messed up family for a night I had the first, minimal desire to see them in a pretty long time. I remembered my blue eyed, curly haired little sister, hardened too early by the crap in our lives but still somehow happy. I never did get that growing up. How our parents could be screaming and fighting in the other with dad falling over drunk and mom hysterical crying, and she would just go on playing, blocking everything out around her. It was freaking weird. "More like on the 17th."

"Six years, Alex," is her response. It's not nice to hear. I'd always intended to go back. First it was supposed to be on breaks from school but I was busy studying. Next I just needed to get through my internship and then I'd take some time off and go visit. Then I entered my residency and I realized just how important those years were. I was sure once I got a fellowship as an attending somewhere there'd be some other excuse too. That kid's too sick for me to leave right now, or Izzie was too sick to travel. I could always find a reason, and I still kind of wanted to have them. I didn't want to face the mother who abandoned me anymore than I wanted to face the guilt of being the one to abandon my mother as well as my sister. "I haven't even had a phone conversation with you in two."

"I know," I admit. "Six years is better than seven though, isn't it?" I remember Izzie's silver lining moment from a few mornings ago. I didn't know if it would really apply here though.

"I don't know if Mom should travel," she says quietly, like our mom might be in the next room and could overhear. "Why don't you just come home?" Her voice is small and sad, like the ten year old asking me not to move away and go to college. It was amazing how quick the edge vanished entirely from her tone.

I suddenly wanted to, if for no other reason than to take care of Amber for a little while. I'd grown up resenting the responsibilities of a family being thrust upon me, and now I'd done the same thing to her. "I can't," I answer, which sounds pretty cheap. "Izzie, she can't travel."

"You know how Mom can get on planes though." I did. I'd been there when we'd flown to Illinois for my father's burial eight years ago. She'd made it halfway through with simple muttering and glancing around before she lost it all together and screamed for the remainder of the ride. Amber had been six. That time she wasn't able to block it out.

"I can send her something to take before," I suggest. I didn't know why I was advocating it so much, them coming and all. I started to question when it stopped being for Izzie and started being something I wanted, because after talking to my sister for the first time in two years, it was something I did want, sorta.

"Why?" is her question, all open to possibilities and right and wrong answers. It wasn't the sort of question I answered well. Even Izzie knew not to ask me "why?" too often. I didn't always get why, just went with it. It worked pretty well most of the time.

"Just 'cause," I answer vaguely. "It's Christmas, or whatever." Izzie would have the right answer to that. She would know why they should come and why I should want them to. I wondered if it would be cheating if I asked her.

"What about Aaron?"

"He didn't answer my call," I lie, because I wasn't ready for that much yet. "I need to ask you something important though, Amber."

"Yeah?" she asks, not really sounding like she considered my claim legitimate.

"Can Mom handle this?" I wasn't bringing her here, to my house and wife, only for her to be admitted over Christmas. I didn't know if I could still handle the episodes like I'd had when I was younger. I had been an expert then, as she had them very often and I became the only one able to calm her down. I wasn't good enough to take back from foster care though, apparently.

"Traveling?" she asks, and I want that to be the big issue, that she had to travel, and get on a plane and stay in an unfamiliar place. I wish that that could be my biggest concern. It wasn't though, because I didn't know if she could handle how different everything was, or the fact that I was married to an obviously sick woman. Izzie had more fire in her than most healthy people, but she was still sick, with advanced, dangerous cancer. There were days even I wasn't sure I could handle it.

"Yeah," I say instead. "Traveling." Because I didn't want to explain over the phone that she was sick. God knows why, but it didn't seem right to me.

"I think. Can you?" she asks, and that's the real question I guess. I had a hard time getting out of bed in the morning, or leaving my wife for the day. How would I handle it if Mom had one of her episodes or Izzie got a bad prognosis right in the middle? Things went wrong, shit happens, but it was time I saw my family, or whatever they were, and so it's with that I answer as confidently as I can.

"Yeah, I can handle it."

12:57 PM

"That's where Dr. Shepherd will then place the shunt in order to flush out all the extra fluid." I'm sitting in a patient's room, twelve year old Mark Miller, with his mom and dad, trying to explain the procedure the son had scheduled in a few hours today. I glance outside the room and find Izzie looking back at me. I try to keep my heart from jumping into my throat as she waves and smiles at me. If anything were seriously wrong she wouldn't be standing there right now, would she? At least, that's the reasoning I give. I swear to god if Denny was hanging around again...

"Is it gonna hurt?" the boy asks, fiddling with his Nintendo system.

"Well yeah," I answer truthfully. "But the good part about being in the hospital is we can give you all the good drugs so you won't even feel your head anymore."

"Cool!" the kid exclaims, obviously excited for some, phantom head experience or whatever. "Can I keep a piece of my brain?" he asks next and his dad rolls his eyes.

"Don't ask stupid questions, Mark." The son retaliates in a short glare toward his father before looking back to me. Kids did like to ask to keep stuff. This was hardly anything new.

"I'm afraid you kind of need to keep your brain in your head," I tell him and stand, needing to get out of there and to Izzie who was still staring expectantly at me. "Someone will be in around three to start getting you prepped for surgery. Did you have anymore questions?" I ask Mark directly before addressing the parents, just like I'd seen Dr. Robins do. It helped with keeping them involved and calm.

"I think we're all set," the father says before anyone else has a chance to speak. No one says otherwise though, and I had a wife waiting for me not too far away so I scribble a note in his chart about fluids and then walk out to Izzie.

"Are you okay?" I ask immediately. It was easy to tell just how much some sleep from earlier had helped. Her eyes had lost their red tint but her face was still a pale shade. It commonly was these days, though. I had momentary thought of if her dreams from earlier could be an indication of returning hallucinations and my stomach sunk at the thought. If the chemo wasn't work there wasn't much more that could be done. You can only filet her open so many times before something became inoperable. The oncologist had said everything was okay though, she was supposed to be-

"Alex!" she yells, looking between irritated and confused with me. "I just came by with lunch from Joe's." Her voice is cheery and upbeat as she holds up her bag in example. I could tell she wasn't really herself by the fake chirp to her voice. Did she have something to tell me maybe? "I'm _fine,_" she accentuates the last word heavily, taking my hand and placing it on her forehead. It was kind of clammy but not at all hot. "See?"

I take my hand away and kiss her. "You're tired," I point out and she shrugs.

"But also hungry," she says with a smile and a suggestive glint in her eye. "And that's why you, should come eat with me."

"Of course," I say, knowing my patients could make it a half hour without me. None of my cases were emergent today, all of them were regular, scheduled surgeries. I was in peds again, having been requested by Dr. Robins for the third time, and I was pretty grateful for the easy day I'd been given because of it. "You get something you won't upchuck today?"

She curls her nose up in memory of yesterday's incident. I wish I could say it was something we weren't used to, but it definitely was. Still, I'd hate to be puking my guts out for a week every month. "I'd hope not," she answers with a shake of her head. "We can decorate the tree tonight, right?" We enter the elevator, pressing the button to go down to the cafeteria. She leans against the wall as it begins to descend.

"If you want, sure," I shrug my shoulders, rather indifferent of the idea. I'd just need to make it home at some point in order to do that. I couldn't remember the last time I'd set a tree up and put decorations all over it. My mom used to attempt to make some sort of tree every year, but it generally failed due to it being three feet tall and my dad having stuck a beer bottle in place of the star one year. I think eventually she just gave up, especially as she got sicker. I couldn't remember if Amber had ever had a Christmas tree.

"I called my mom," she says as we exit the elevator and walk the short distance to the cafeteria. I hold the door open for her as she enters and walks to the back of the room with our bag of food. She sits on one side of the booth and I take the other as she begins unpacking the bags. "She's sending over some of my ornaments."

"I don't get it..." I say, taking the cheeseburger that was clearly mine and beginning to devour it. It was the first time I'd eaten all day. I never made it up early enough to eat breakfast anymore. I had this annoying tendency to get distracted. Usually by a certain woman who often lay in my bed. I laugh slightly as Izzie pulls out our own, new cutlery instead of whatever Joe probably had. I look up to say something but decide against it as I see a very condescending, "I told you so" look directed at me. So I just take the fork and shut up.

"Some of my special ornaments from when I was a kid," she tries to clarify for me. "Like baby ornaments and stuff? I've just never gotten around to asking her until now."

"There are baby ornaments?" I ask, mildly disdainful. Was it really necessary? I was kind of glad my family hadn't bothered with crap like that. I wouldn't say so to Izzie though, knowing her there was some weird sentimental value to them.

"You know, like "Baby's First Christmas"? I used to get the new barbie ones every year too." I try really hard to suppress my eyebrow raise and just nod kindly instead. I focus on my burger instead of her love of ornaments. I loved her, I really did, but this was one of those things I just knew I wasn't going to be getting.

She rubs at her eye, suppressing a yawn as she picks around a rather wilted looking salad. I wouldn't want to eat that even if my stomach felt good, let alone if it was unsteady. "Maybe you should have Bailey look at you," I say warily. She didn't look herself, better than this morning when I'd seen her, but still not herself. She shakes her head though, immediately denying my suggestion. "At least take a nap or something."

"I just need to shower," she deflects as she takes a bite of her unattractive lettuce. "Do you think you'll be home early again?" We were residents, we hardly ever got home early. Last night had been a deal between me and O'Malley as I handed him my craniotomy in exchange of going home early. I didn't think I could swing it again, or even that I necessarily should go and try. She had a hopeful look in her eyes though, like she knew the answer but was hoping her Christmas magic might be able to change it.

I sigh, pretty much entirely unable to just ignore that look. Especially when I knew she felt so bad and wasn't right across the hall from me like she usually was when she felt crappy. I hated feeling like I'd stranded her as I went off and lived my life like usual at Seattle Grace. Call it a conscience, survivor's guilt, love, whatever label you wanted to stick on it didn't really matter. I just knew it affected me every morning as I left and throughout the day whenever she crossed my mind. "I can try," I answer. My last surgery of the day was scheduled at five, for just a basic bowel obstruction. Nothing that would take more than a couple hours at most. If I could just hand my nightly rounds off to someone I'd be free to leave after that. I might be able to swing it if I just played the cancer card on someone.

"Great," she says and smiles brightly. It wasn't her usual smile though, lacking the general vividness that she commonly carried around in her.

I watched her worriedly, my burger now less interesting than before. "Bad day?" I ask simply, and she gives me this small, sad smile that quickly confirms it. "Can I do anything?"

"No," she answers simply as she gives up on fake eating her salad and instead twiddles with her engagement ring. I cringed at the look of it. I could hardly let her wear that thing for much longer. I'd gotten it out of a gumball machines for Christ's sake. She needed something proper. Even my mother had a legitimate ring. What kind of husband would the two of them see me as with that crap on her finger? "Except help me decorate the tree when you get home later."

My pager begins to beep, a 911 flashing across the screen for Mark. "Damn it," I mutter, knowing I'd probably get in there to find the kid seizing. I quickly toss my trash back in the paper bag and kiss the top of Izzie's head. "I'll be home later tonight," I promise as I begin to run toward the doors. "Call me if you need anything!" I yell as an afterthought, probably garnering the attention of many others in the room.

I run, skipping the elevator and taking the stairs two at a time as I sprint toward his room. I burst out in the peds hallway, twisting around the smaller patients as necessary as I continued to run toward his room. I can hear the beeping of the machine as I approach and waste no time in assessing. He was obviously seizing, his entire body writhing and his pupils rolled to the back of his head.

"He's tachycardic!" a nurse shouts as she holds him on his side. His heart rate just keeps increasing, and I know we only have moments before he flat lines out.

"Someone page Shepherd!" I call out just as the kid ceases his violent spasms and falls still. "V-fib, someone get me a crash cart!" I begin compression, not wasting anytime as the paddles are being prepared. Someone hold them out to me and I rub the gel between them. "Charge to 200," I command as I set them in place and yell the customary "Clear!"

"What happened?" Arizona questions as she comes running into the room, stethoscope falling from her neck as she breathes heavily.

"He needs to get to an OR now. The pressure's too much on his brain. His right pupil's blown already," I report as I nod to the nurse to charge again, this time to 300. "Clear!" I hold my breath for a second until his heart rate returns, slow but present.

"OR 2 is open, Dr. Karev," an intern says and I nod in his general direction.

"Tell them we're coming up," I instruct as I pull up the bars on the bed and start to roll it, other people following my lead and helping me out. "Any word on Shepherd?"

"Right here," he says and follows as we rush to an OR, ready to go save this boy's life.

2:38 PM

"Would you like to drill the burr holes, Dr. Karev?" Shepherd asks me as he holds out the drill. I take it cautiously, holding it in my hand like I'd done a thousand times in the skills lab. I wasn't a neuro guy. I knew that from the get go, but it didn't mean the accomplishments of neuro surgery weren't terrifying and rewarding anyhow. "Just like that, perfect."

I line the drill up with the black dot, not having time for hesitation as I begin to drill. The whirring was unnerving as I listened to the bone crack apart. I feel the release as I break all the way through and pull back.

"Very good," he praises as I hand the drill over to the technician. I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful I didn't freeze right in the middle of drilling. It'd be just the sort of thing I would end up doing, screwing it all up because the pressure crushed me like a brick wall. It didn't matter now though, I'd done it and done it well. I sometimes forgot I wasn't a total failure, here was my reminder as blood leaked from the hole in this boy's skull.

"Ready to give him a more permanent fix?" he asks as he hands me another tool and we set to work, installing the shunt as originally planned.

3:32 PM

"I got paged?" I question as I walk into Hannah's room, who was still in the pediatric oncology unit. I hardly could see where I, a surgical resident, would be playing a roll unless more tumors needed resection. Considering there was no one but the thirteen year old girl and a nurse sitting there, I doubted that was the case though.

"The patient was asking for you," Nurse Mary answers, handing me her chart. "Shouldn't have made friends," she mutters as she exits the room.

"Look, Hannah," I start, looking from my watch and back to her, who appeared perfectly healthy. Well, as healthy as any thirteen year old cancer patient could appear.

"I know what you're going to say," she says, and holds up a hand to stop me. "You're busy, I'm not your problem any more, page your actual doctor, right?"

"I mean, kinda. I do have a job you know?" I resign though, sitting myself down in the armchair next to her bed. It wasn't like I hadn't done this hundreds of times before. Only, that had been my wife.

"Oh, you know I'm your favorite patient." She smiles at me, raising her eyebrows as if to provoke a positive answer.

"Technically, you're not my patient at all," I point out as I prop my feet up on her bed. I check my phone, something I only really paid attention to when Izzie was at home instead of in the hospital. No missed calls.

"Exactly, so I'm your favorite...non-patient." I roll my eyes, staring her down to get out of her whatever she wanted to say. "Let's do our sharing thing," she suggests.

"Uh-uh, I'm done explaining my life to a thirteen year old." I hardly was about to talk to her on matters like lack of sex and my wife's seeming secret keeping.

"I'll go first," she prompts in a singsong voice. "Please?"

"Shoot," I relent. "You have thirty minutes."

"Okay, so here's the deal," she says, pulling herself into a sitting position as opposed to laying slumped against her pillows. I'd gathered that she liked talking, a lot. Reminded me of someone else I knew. "I'm new to Seattle, like bright and shiny new, and I was in school for a total of two weeks, two freaking weeks, before ending up here. And even then I was just the new, freaky cancer kid. Hardly giving prime opportunity to make friends to talk to. And I know, I know, you're past the stage of trifling teen problems, but I'm so...bored." She finally finishes, her hands laying to rest after their use of expressive communication.

"So I'm what now? Your BFF?" I ask, a sneer undoubtedly on my face.

"Oh, definitely," she answers in a joking tone. "Look on the bright side, you can get a matching necklace now. Good birthday present opportunity considering I'll be fourteen in a few days." I exhale heavily, knowing what part came next. "Okay, your turn."

"My mom and sister are coming for Christmas," I say, going with a safer PG option. I'd stay away from the abusive sob story and stick to more, trivial, issues for the sake of the kid. No need to scar her.

"And you totally can't stand them, is that it?" She pulls forward her tray, picking up one of the cookies I'd given her earlier and nibbling on it.

"Something to that effect, yeah." I didn't actually know, now that I thought about it. The last I'd really talked to my sister she still watched Barbie movies and wore candy necklaces. For all I knew she could be some punk ass kid I couldn't stand. "My wife thought it'd be a good idea to 'surprise me' with their visit."

She laughs in response. "What'd you do to deserve that?"

"I wish I knew," I answer. "Really she was trying to do me a favor, feeling guilty over the whole, deadly cancer deal."

"It does instill an interesting guilt complex."

Her mother walks in then, looking as tired as I felt most days. She gives Hannah a weak smile and then the same to me. I stand as she walks in, I'm sure this was usually her seat. "It's lovely to see you Dr. Karev," she says and actually gives me a hug in greeting. It was weird. "How nice of you to still take an interest in Hannah's case."

"She's good company," I say, not about to tattle on her that she'd called me here myself. "I might have to stop by another day." I pat her on the shoulder and then glance at my watch again. "I have to go prep a patient for surgery, but I'll see you around." She smiles and waves as I go, walking at warp speed to try and make up for the time lost in conversation.

7:34 PM

Yang was the only left here for the night, of course. Meredith had run off with Shepherd for some early dinner and I hadn't seen O'Malley for hours. Not that I exactly looked for the guy, but he generally showed up every once in a while across my path throughout the day. I knew the odds of getting Cristina Yang, of all people, to finish my nightly rounds in peds were about as likely as being hit by an asteroid at the same second I had won the lottery. Plus, I didn't know if I wanted to submit my kids to that sort of torture.

I wasn't going to bother even asking, for that very reason, but then I remember Izzie's exhausted expression and hopeful glimmer at the idea of me being home before she was ready to crash into bed. It was tiring, trying to be two places and two people all at the same time, but I kept doing it. Another week and she'd be much stronger, plus there was only six more days before I was off for days at a time. I held onto that, just as I did every time exhaustion seemed to be gripping me and guilt pulling me under.

"Yang," I say as I approach the severe surgeon. She gives me a kind of glare, but at the same time manages to utterly ignore me, somehow.

"What?" she asks impatiently as she scribbles on the chart in her arms. "Did you forget how to do an IV or something?"

"Haha," I answer even though I'm pretty sure she didn't hear anything as she wrote furiously. "I wanted a favor." She looks at me now, eyebrows raised in surprise for a brief second before she bursts into laughter like I'd just told a joke. Great, this was going to go well. "I gave you enough surgeries in the past few days to earn this, I'd think."

"You gave me surgeries to take care of your precious wife," she calls me out, well aware that I hadn't given her the surgeries because I was sitting around trying to think of good deeds to do and considered Cristina and her need for all things surgical.

"Whatever," I say, giving up as I go to walk away from her, deciding it was entirely not worth the effort.

She makes this odd scoffing noise that causes me to turn around in question. "What do you want?" she asks, highly begrudgingly. "And I'm not doing any rectal exams."

"I just need someone to do my night rounds for me. I only have three patients." I hold my charts out hopefully. There wasn't much that even had to be done for them. It was time consuming, going from one room to the next, looking over charts and applying the proper dosage for medicine as well as any other service they might need. I was already an hour later than I had wanted to be with getting home. Doing all of that would have made me at least another hour late, probably more.

"Fine," she says and snatches the charts from my hand. "But this is the only time I'm doing this and you better not mention it to anyone else," she threatens and I nod complacently.

"Thanks, Cristina," I say sincerely. She rolls her eyes and walks away, ignoring anything else I might have had to say. I waste no time, running to the locker room and trading out my scrubs for my regular clothes and grabbing my other things. I check my phone for the hundredth time, still thinking Izzie might have called and I missed it. I wasn't sure if a lack of contact from her was a good sign or not. In one way it meant she wasn't feeling bad enough to call me for help, but from a different perspective it could also mean that she was just too sick or too stubborn to call me back. It's for that reason that I might mildly speed on my way home.

8:02 PM

"Iz?" I call out as I walk through the door.

"In the kitchen!" she shouts. I walk in to find her in the same position I had two nights ago. "You're late," she comments, sticking her cheek out slightly for me to kiss as she lays out cookies in the shapes of reindeer and snowmen on a cookie sheet in order to be baked.

"You're baking," I reply, taking one look at her to determine that she was completely fooling herself if she thought she had any energy. "Why are you baking?"

"I was sitting around," she begins as she opens the oven and pulls out two trays of finished molasses cookies and slides in two different ones of sugar cookies. "Feeling useless as usual, when I realized, I'm an excellent baker."

"You knew that already," I point out as I try to grab one of the molasses, getting my hand swatted away.

"True, but I forgot that I could feed them to hand out Christmas cheer where they may not be enough," she suggests with an eyebrow raise, obviously waiting for me to fill the rest in.

"Er, Africa?" She rolls her eyes, batting my hand away again as I tried to take another cookie.

"The hospital, Alex," she answers like I should have known all along. "I'm going to take them to the pediatrics unit and hand them out to cheer some of the kids up. Who doesn't love holiday cookies and cupcakes?" She takes her pot holder and smacks me across the head as I try one more time to take a cookie. "You're going to burn your hand. Here," she says, finally relenting and handing me one of the cooled cookies. "You can help me hand them out, if you want."

"No thanks," I answer through a mouth full of cookie. "It's kind of weird for a twenty seven year old man to be a candy striper."

"Not candy stripers," she corrects. "Elves."

"Oh well in that case," I answer sarcastically, but a little to indulged in my cookie to be too rude in response. "You feed them, I'll cut them open."

"What a team," she replies, smiling broadly. "Like...Batman and Robin."

"Sure, whatever you say." I flip through the mail sitting on the counter as she returns to her baking. My eyes land on a red envelope, addressed to me and Izzie, from an unfamiliar address. I didn't know a single person in Kansas. I begin opening it when I hear running water, I turn to find Izzie beginning to wash the dishes. "I got it," I say, tossing the letter back on the counter for later.

"I can do it," she insists, refusing to budge as I stood closely next to her.

"Or, you can go pull out the decorations that we need to start the tree," I entice, knowing they mostly sat in plastic Target bags in our bedroom. Although, she did have some impulse ornaments she'd gotten at Kohl's laying around somewhere. That gets her to go, instructing me on cookie removal before she fully leaves the kitchen to walk down the hallway. It was going to be a long night.

10:57 PM

I climb into bed after having just gotten out of the shower, and cautiously check to see if she's still awake before pulling her to me. "Mm," she murmurs, reaching up and kissing all along my jaw line. "Your after shave smells good. Not that I'm sure I understand why you're shaving at night."

"Someone's developed a tendency to keep me in bed in the morning," I explain, kissing her temple as she lays her head back down.

"Oh really, who's that?" she questions with a smile. I roll my eyes and she smiles more brightly. The light her eyes was so very tired though. She almost looked like a zombie with her weary, bloodshot eyes. Were it not for the smile she might be mildly frightening.

"Oh, some girl I met at work." I go along for her sake, really just hoping she'd fall asleep while we went back and forth. I knew I wouldn't be sleeping until she was tonight.

"Is your mom going to hate me?" she asks out of the blue. I sigh, not sure if I really wanted to answer that or not.

"She won't hate you," I say honestly. Because, she wouldn't. She would worry, and mutter to herself, and maybe even have an angry outburst, but she wouldn't hate Izzie. How many people in the world even could hate Izzie? She was far too consistently pleasant. It was kind of annoying the rest of us.

"But?" She knows there's more to it.

"But she's sick, and she doesn't process things well, and I haven't seen her in six years. There's the but."

She sighs, kissing a bare spot on the top of my chest. "I had a daughter," she says quietly, almost so quietly I'm not sure I hear her. "When I was fifteen, I had a daughter."

"Okay," I answer calmly. We all had our skeletons in the closet, right? Mine was my crazy messed up family. Her's was a clandestine kid. It happens.

"I put her up for adoption, which probably seems selfish, and irresponsible, and-"

"Iz, that makes total sense," I interrupt before she can go on any longer. "This is coming from a guy who was born to an eighteen year old woman who married the father out of financial obligation. I grew up with no money and in a messed up place. You did the right damn thing."

"Really?" she asks. It's like she knows it, she really does, but just like we do with so much shit in our lives, she was second guessing herself. I guess that was a pretty life altering thing that you might rethink from time to time. Couldn't blame her. "She was adopted by this really nice couple. They named her Hannah. George said she has my eyes."

"George," I ask. "How the hell does George know what she looks like."

"Oh," she says simply. "About two years ago her parents came to me, all the way from California Hannah had leukemia, and they needed some bone marrow for a transplant. They said I was their best hope," she shrugs her shoulders like it's this common thing. It was funny how much she was alike to my patient now. The time line was pretty exact. There were hundreds of bone marrow transplants done every week. It was hardly remarkable. "She, um, she didn't want anything to do with me," Izzie mutters quietly and I feel water falling onto my tank top. "And it's just, her birthday is in a few days, she's gonna be fourteen and I..."

My mind cancels out anything Izzie says after that. Her name was Hannah, she has leukemia and had a bone marrow transplant two years ago and had lived in California then. Also, her birthday was in a few days. The likenesses were getting to be too much, the similarities becoming conclusive evidence of something I would have never considered before. I mean sure, their eyes were the same, but how many people in the world had expressive brown eyes? Then there was the way she talked with her hands, how she seemed to love food, it was all adding up to a pretty basic, nauseating conclusion.

My patient of the last week and a half, the girl who had today deemed me her best friend, was actually the daughter my wife had given up for adoption fourteen years ago. "Who adopted her?" I ask out of the blue.

"Um, Rachel and Harry Roberts?" she says it like a question, her tired eyes looking up at me strangely.

Damn it, I think to myself because I can't say anything. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Where did I go from here? Did I tell her? Could I tell her? I doubted it would be breaking any doctor/patient confidentiality issues. But would Izzie be able to handle it? What if she wanted to try and talk to her again, only to be shot down for the second time? And how would she feel about knowing her kid was fighting the same disease she was? What did I do? This time it wasn't just a situation I didn't know how to handle. I hardly doubted anyone would know the protocol for this one.

"Alex?" Izzie asks. I'm sure I'd essentially just missed the second half of her soul bearing, and, had I not been so freaked out at the moment, I'd feel worse about it.

"I'm sorry, Iz," I say and kiss the top of her head. "I'm literally falling asleep here. Do you mind if we talk in the morning?"

"Yeah, sure." She sounds sad or disappointed as she says it, which makes me feel guilty, but my mind needed time to process things before I went and blurted anything out. Maybe I could talk to someone, get some advice. Girls did it all the time, I could too. My mind reeled at the thought that all this time I'd actually been treating Izzie's long lost daughter, the one she gave up but still wanted. How do you explain that? It was hard enough believing it in the first place.

I sigh as Izzie wraps herself around me, kind of just wanting to get up and be alone in order to process, but knowing she needed me here if she was ever going to sleep. So I try and relax as I hold her to me, knowing with a high amount of certainty that I wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

**I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I know I'm late with updating again, but keep in mind that it's the Christmas season for more than just Izzie and Alex, and I'm pretty busy myself. So, I need another night of forgiveness and tomorrow I'll be sure to upload earlier. Your silver lining is that you got a longer update since I did some last minute revisions at one in the morning.**

**Now, some of you have left reviews asking about Hannah, and George as well. I don't want to give my story away but, as you can see, they aren't just minimal plot points and will come to fully develop over time. Trust me, they aren't just going to disappear even if they do seem to only get minor mentions. As you can see, the Hannah plot line is carrying on. However, the outcome of it may not be as some of you envision. Remember, this is a girl who wanted nothing to do with Izzie the first time around.**

**Alright, that's all I think. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. You all earn some of Izzie's home baked cookies. I'm sorry I'm not really replying to many of you right now, but I'm sure you prefer I just work at this instead. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	11. Chapter 11

Izzie – December 11th 5:46 AM

Alex is tripping around the room, trying to get himself ready for work. I didn't understand why he was going in so early. It was Sunday after all, sleep in day, as I'd christened it a few years ago. I figure he'd been paged in or something, trying not to think too much of it. After his reaction last night though...I couldn't help the creeping insecurity. His words had been reassuring, but his actions had confused me, making me question if he honestly thought what he'd said or if he now thought less of me because of the fact that I'd gone and given away my child.

He totally just, zoned out, as I tried really hard to discuss calmly about the whole situation. I thought he would get it, and now with her being on my mind so much due to it soon being her birthday, I just wanted to talk about it, finally bring it out to the open. It wasn't something I was ashamed of, the having a kid part. I couldn't help the occasional shame that I felt when people reacted like Alex had over the fact that I'd given her up. I knew what people thought. "How do you give up your own kid?" "You must not care to do something like that?" Or, my favorite, "How selfish can a person get?" They weren't words directed at me, but every time the topic of adoption came up, whether it be around the kids at my school or now in adulthood, over hearing conversations or listening to parents question things like that. They were words that could apply, and that kind of sucked.

"Shit," Alex curses in a whisper as he begins hobbling around on one foot. Were I filled with less worry right now, I would definitely laugh at his toe injury. I did feel kind of bad with how he had to get ready every morning, though. Did we ever empty our boxes out this process might be a bit easier. By that point we'd probably be getting ready to move again though.

He comes around to his side of the bed, picking up his pager and his phone. I watch him, my eyes open, but not once does he look in my direction, nor does he kiss me goodbye in anyway before slipping out our bedroom door. I sigh, not sure if I was more disappointed in myself or him. I hated myself enough. He was supposed to be supportive of me no matter what though. So, underneath all of the hurt and shame and guilt, there was some anger too.

He comes back in, and I'm hopeful he'd realized he had left without saying goodbye. That's not the case though as he instead just flips the blinds close and draw the curtains in, obviously trying to keep the light out for me. He leaves once again after that and I turn on my side, grabbing his pillow as I fall somewhere between crying and staring blankly.

7:13 AM

I'm not sleeping. I've laid in bed for two hours and have not dozed off once. It was annoying and a waste of time. So I get up, slowly and carefully, unsure of what sort of day I could expect. I had picked up on the fact my emotions usually played some factor with how my physiological side experienced a day. The mornings I woke up feeling depressed or angry or stressed, I'd usually have a day of twisting stomachs and unsteady footsteps. The mornings that began with joy and peace and love, those were the days when I could wander around Target for an hour the day I was discharged and then decorate the apartment. I had unknown energy and strength that must be powered by all of those good emotions.

Today was hardly the day for feeling miserable, as I had my Christmas shopping plans with Meredith and Cristina. I wondered if Alex remembered that. He often came home to have lunch with me if he wasn't too busy. I'd mentioned it the day before at lunch, but he didn't always retain everything.

Oh well, I thought. Even if he didn't remember he probably still wouldn't show up just because he was all standoffish now.

The world is a little unsteady around me, and I find that even though I'd been laying in a perfectly nice bed for nearly two hours, I was kind of exhausted. It was stupid, this whole being unable to sleep deal. As a surgeon, my body had quickly been taught to sleep when it could, because who knew when the next opportunity would arise. You were tired, you slept. It was simple, and I wished I could reacquire that simplicity. But now there were nightmares, and angry husbands, and worried guts that kept me up. Considering I was sick with an invasive, aggressive cancer, you'd think my body would still sleep as it used to.

I go to the kitchen to make myself some tea, finding some claimed anti-nausea stuff that Meredith must have gotten for me in my cupboard. The side of the box rambled on about some herb mixtures, but I don't care enough to work on focusing my eyes to read it, so I just dump the tea bag into my cup of hot water. I open the cabinets, scanning for something that I might feel like eating. Alex's cereal is in there, along with some corn flakes. There were eggs in the fridge and cheese, I could make an omelet. Bacon, sausage, and pancake mix also were found in my search. All of them made my stomach turn at the thought, bile rising to the back of my throat. It didn't help that every time I thought of Alex's distance I got this sick, somersaulting feeling in my gut. I wanted to bury my face in a pillow and forget it happened.

I walk out of the kitchen, my herbal tea the only thing that would be going into my stomach just now it would seem. I sigh, surrendering myself to the idea of showering and getting ready. I was sure the two of them would still have to do their morning rounds before being able to go out, and even then they wouldn't necessarily come right over. Everyone always expected me to be sleeping all day. Which, perhaps on a normal day I might at least sleep past when they all went into work, but today just wasn't going to be normal.

The hot water feels good and, considering my only task when showering was to brush my teeth and wash my body, I stay in far longer than necessary, just finding comfort in the warmth that fell around me. I made my mind up then, deciding to block all concern over Alex and whatever his potential thoughts might be. It was just impossible to tell what he was thinking some days. In all reality, it was just irrational to be all worried about his disapproval or whatever now when he could be thinking of something completely different that bothered him. It could be his family, or my not sleeping, or work. Any number of things could make him like this. Really.

I eventually switch the water off, once the hot water has run out and been replaced with lukewarm liquid. I stay in the steam filled room though, wrapping myself in a towel and sitting on the toilet. I lean my head back and breathe in the moist filled air.

A loud knock on the bathroom door makes me jump. "Izzie?" Meredith's panicked voice asks. "Are you in there?"

"Yeah, just a minute!" I yell back, pulling my towel a little tighter around my body and wrapping another one around the top of my head, just as I used to when I had hair that I needed to keep from dripping down my back. Now it was a makeshift hat/scarf.

I swing the door open, smiling at the mildly startled Meredith. "You weren't answering your phone," she says, disapprovement coloring her tone.

"Shower," I answer simply. "Is Cristina here?" I question, wondering if she had yet begun to go through my kitchen this time.

"No, she's finishing a surgery," she says with an eye roll. Of course she would be, this was Cristina Yang after all. It wouldn't be a good day for her unless she got to cut someone open. "How are you feeling?" She's giving me this look like she'd heard of my bad day yesterday. I might be having another not so good one today so far, but I attributed that to my bad mood, and the days before were obviously from recently finishing chemo. People overreacted.

"Been talking to Alex?" I ask with a slight smile. It fades when my stomach does another flip. Did he really think less of me now? I stop myself there, blocking such thoughts again. It was pretty much impossible to consciously stop yourself from thinking about something, I wondered how many other people had noticed that before.

"He might have mentioned something," she says with a shrug. "I was just calling earlier to see when you wanted to leave."

"And then felt the need to speed over here after I didn't answer to make sure I hadn't passed out?" I finish for her, because we both knew it was true. She laughs slightly, nodding. "Just give me twenty minutes."

"You can have more if Cristina is still in surgery. Knowing her she'll be procrastinating after that, too." It was so true. I could only think back to my Thanksgiving dinner years before. How everyone had found one reason or another to not be there as I prepared dinner, or even make it to eat practically. The only who had a decent one was George, I still thought. He did have family traditions that ended with his dad being shot in the ass. He got a "Get Out of Jail Free" card for that one.

I almost smiled at the memory of the day. I missed George. I missed him every day, at one point or another, but specifically today. Because, had he been around, I would have talked to him about Hannah and her upcoming birthday. Or I could talk to him about Alex's ass like reaction. Well, okay, maybe not that, but there was lots of other stuff. The most ridiculous part was, George was right in the hospital, every day. Only as far away as everyone else important in my life, only he had somehow vanished. I didn't think it was fair. Why did he get to decide that we weren't friends any longer. I felt it should be a more mutual thing, personally.

"Could we stop at the hospital before, actually?" I ask, thinking of cornering my husband and throwing something hard at him. "We can always just force Cristina to leave while we're there."

"Sure," she answers. "I'm just gonna go...watch some TV," she says, making her way to the living room. Now that I thought about it, this was the first time the television had been on at all. Alex was always working or doing something with me, and I got enough of the TV in the hospital. One could only watch The Price is Right so many consecutive mornings before needing to get away from it.

I go into my room, kneeling before one of the many boxes on the floor. I have to use my hands to keep from falling over, the dizziness getting the best of me for a second as I crouched down. I pull out lumps of clothing, Alex's T-shirts and jeans mostly dominating this box. I stand and kick the box over in frustration. Why couldn't he just label the damn boxes? Maybe fold a thing or two? God, was it really so much to ask?

I sigh, falling back onto the bed, still in nothing but my towel. I pull my faux-hair towel off and toss it to the floor. I was bald, not a single hair on my head, and it made me look sick, but did a towel wrapped around non-existent hair really help anything? Probably not, just made me look crazy instead.

I breathe deeply, letting my eyes slide close as I lay there, trying to just calm myself from the anger, frustration, and worry that was becoming overwhelming. It was his fault, because he couldn't just talk to me instead of avoiding having any conversation that might involve more emotions than the depth of a teaspoon. I hated him. Except that I kind of loved him.

11:49 AM

I groan, as I stretch and roll over, unsure of what was going on for a brief second. I hear voices, they sounded muffled and kind of far away, obviously from another room. I recognize them as Cristina and Meredith. I sit up quickly, only to discover I was still in my towel, but had, at some point, been covered with a blanket as well.

Great, I thought, I hadn't even managed to get dressed without falling asleep somehow. My mind needed to decide to let me sleep when I wanted it to instead of stubbornly keeping me awake only to force me asleep later, in the middle of the day. I wipe away the sleep from my eyes, pulling myself up and scanning the room which was somehow different. It clicks after a few seconds of staring, the boxes had entirely vanished. I stood and opened a drawer of the dresser, finding a neat pile of folded laundry sitting in there. I go to the closet after that. I see my dresses and blouses along with Alex's one suit and a few of his button down shirts hanging in there.

I didn't know how I had managed to sleep through Meredith unpacking all of our clothes and putting them away, but I had somehow managed, and for whatever strange reason I felt three times better having our things finally put away. At this rate we would need to give Meredith a kidney or something if the need ever presented itself. I didn't know if it was Derek or some hibernating motherly instinct, but she was constantly just helping us these days. I wondered if she pitied the fact that George had ditched me.

With my clothes now put properly away, it was much simpler finding something to pull on. I searched for my smallest pair of jeans, grabbing a belt to go with them, as well as one of my old, light pink sweaters. They still hung on me, especially in certain areas, like my butt and breasts, but it looked better than sweats at least. I find my original pink and white scarf, securing it quickly to my head. My winter stuff was still laying around somewhere in the living room. Thinking of the way Alex and I had been living since the move reminded me just how much cleaning I still needed to accomplish in the next six days, which wasn't a ton of time. Thankfully, we'd just moved in a few days ago so the how was cluttered as opposed to dirty. I didn't know if I would have the energy to scrub floors and dust the tops of cabinets.

I leave my bedroom for the bathroom, finding that my little box for makeup had also been put away. With no eyelashes it was hard to do too much in terms of makeup, things like eyeliner and eyeshadow just looking strange. I generally stuck with foundation and some lip gloss, just for my own self satisfaction as opposed to anything else.

"I'm so sorry," I say as I walk out into the living room, purse in hand. "I'm not really sure what happened there."

"You fell asleep, Iz," Meredith points out plainly. "Obviously you needed it too."

"Good thing you breathe like an asthmatic or else we might of thought you were dead though," Cristina says with all of her charm. "You're like, dead still in your sleep."

"It's been a long past few nights," I explain as vaguely as possible. I didn't really want to discuss my situation with Mer, and most definitely not with Cristina, so I would have to deflect if any questions arose.

"Alex called," Meredith says as she holds my phone up. "I told him you were taking a nap before we went out."

"What'd he say?" I ask urgently, happy just to hear he called. He couldn't think too little of me if he still wanted to have a conversation with me. Maybe this morning he had just been running late. It had happened a lot in the past couple weeks, or months, really. And last night he could have just been tired as he said. I knew Alex, if he was tired and horizontal, he was going to fall asleep. I wanted to laugh at my silly overreaction. It was just my underused mind creating scenarios to bring something a little more exciting to my life.

"Not much after he figured out who he was talking to. Just to make sure you didn't overdo it today." I roll my eyes, that sounded like Alex alright. It brought a smile to my face, now being able to relax and stop worrying about the whole made up ordeal.

"Are you ready?" I ask, finding my winter stuff in the hall closet. "God, how much time did you have? I thought I was the one who nested?"

"Meredith wasn't smart enough to go into surgery, like me, this morning," Cristina says with a smug smile. "I obviously didn't miss much."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," I say, surprised that both of them get up off the couch with shoes on and purses in hand. They must have been waiting for a while. I still felt kind of bad for my impromptu nap. Not that I didn't feel about ten times better physically speaking.

"So, did Alex say anything else?"

1:45 PM

"I could be doing so much more important things," Cristina mutters as I hold a men's shirt up, turning it this way and that. I put back on the rack with a sigh. Alex would want clothes as much as I'd want murdered kittens.

"I don't know what to do!" I shout in frustration. "What are you getting Derek?" Hopefully Mer knew what she was doing more than I did. I was getting no where. I had thought I'd just...find something for him and it would be perfect and make sense. That didn't happen though. I had found landed on a Pandora bracelet for my mother and couldn't exactly buy for Meredith right now. I knew what I wanted to get George, but with him not talking to me I wasn't sure if I even wanted to bother. Because I knew if I didn't have the opportunity to give it to him and it just sat around, doing nothing, then I'd feel depressed every time I saw it. It would be this big, gift wrapped, reminder of the loss of my best friend. Memories were enough reminders for right now.

Then there was Alex's family, who I figured we could just buy for together, only I had no idea what to get them, and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he was entirely helpless in the process as well. Right now, I really didn't like Christmas so much.

"Oh, I don't know," she answers, in a tone that totally gave away the fact that she was lying. "It's a hard decision."

We walk from Sears and veer into the mall's Best Buy. Cristina almost spits out her coffee as she scoffs, trying to play it off as cough after Meredith shoots her a look. "Fine, don't tell me." I walk off away from the clothes and into the electronics. I hadn't seen Alex play a video game in the whole time I'd known him, but maybe that was because we had no gaming platform? "An Xbox?" I ask, scanning the options. What was a 360? And why was this Kinect thing so expensive?

"Evil Spawn would be one waste his time sitting around killing people," Cristina says with an eye roll. "Just like you enjoy wasting your time by shopping."

"Cristina," I say, turning to her. "You spend all of your time that you don't have to be at work...at work. You do surgery and then you get out of surgery and do more surgeries. Then you go down to the pit, and you look for more surgeries! God, relax for two hours, would you?"

She huffs, crossing her arms and looking at her watch. "We've been doing this for two hours and fourteen minutes," she reports as she picks up some game and flips it over, scanning it halfheartedly.

I take the game from her, throwing it back on the shelf. "You need to get Hunt something," I demand. I was frustrated, and bored, and had no idea what to do and I'd be damned if she didn't, at the very least, participate in this stupid tradition.

"I do not," she laughs, walking away from me.

"He's been in Iraq for how many Christmases?" I ask, getting her to pause in her walk, but not turn to look at me. "You should give him this." I knew of all the people to try and explain this to, Cristina should be the last, but it was a good point. I was bending over backward trying to make a good Christmas for Alex and hopefully his crazy mom and long lost sister. At the very least, she could buy her boyfriend a twenty dollar gift. "Not the whole holiday, just a gift. Something he'd like."

"I don't know," Cristina shrugs, staring at the games now with me. "We're surgeons, Izzie. We get up, go to work, and then when we aren't working, we sleep. Every once in a while we have time for a drink. We make time for sex. When is there a need for a gift?"

"What does he like?" I question, hoping to feel useful again in this whole process. There was once a time when I was unstoppable, one the best gift buyers. My boyfriend's used to love getting stuff from me, and my friends always went out and bought me an extra gift the next day claiming that it "just came in." But then my stupid ass went and married Alex Karev and all of my superior gifting skills just vanished.

"Trauma," she answers simply. I guess to her, that was the obvious answer. If someone were to ask her what she liked I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she looked them directly in the eye and said, "Cardiothoracics." "And his therapy. He seems to like going to therapy."

"Okay..." I say, looking around me and considering that for a second. I shake my head, that hadn't been done right. "Let's try this again. Meredith," I start this time instead. "What's something Derek likes?"

"Ferry boats," she answers easily. "And fishing, and nuts n' grain cereal."

"See?" I ask, the three of us moving over as people were trying to squish by us. The whole store was a mob scene. The whole city, actually. "Those were the kinds of answers I was looking for."

"I don't learn that sort of stuff," she says simply, now having seemingly lost interest in the whole process. "I talk about surgery, he'll mention therapy, and then we either go to sleep or have sex."

I groan, tired of hearing about her ever so superior sex life. Next to mine though, everyone had a superior sex life right now. I readjust my scarf as I recall just why that was. "Burke liked scrub caps," I relay.

"Yeah...he kind of moved away though."

"I know that," I say impatiently. "But still, that was something not about surgery or sex that you knew about him." She begins walking now, and I follow Meredith texting someone as we went. I check my phone to see if maybe Alex had called. He hadn't.

"It was kind of about surgery," Meredith mutters.

"Thanks, Mer, really helping my case here." I roll my eyes, frustrated with too much to carry on anymore. "A watch," I say. "I'll just, get Alex a watch." We navigate our way out of the crowded Best Buy and begin walking along the mall, passing by stores and a pretzel stand. I'm mildly distracted by the Christmas decorations that covered the store. They should be putting me into a better holiday spirit.

"He can tell time?" Cristina quips again.

"Doesn't he have one already?" Meredith asks, actually being helpful as opposed to other people.

"Well yeah, but it's awfully worn." I consider that, how he always wore it with that leather bracelet of his. Despite Alex being Alex I wouldn't be surprised if those two objects held some sort of sentimental value, meaning more to him than anyone would ever get know. Trying to replace it would be ignorant, leaving me back at square one. "A jacket!"

"Oh God, this is pathetic," Cristina says, shaking her head. "Will you just admit you don't know and ask him what he wants already?"

"That's not how this works," I answer, frustrated still. It didn't help remembering he could very well be upset with me right, and I didn't know anyway that I could fix it. My mind is just about to fog itself up with such awful, circular thoughts again when we walk by a Victoria's Secret. Sexy lingerie catches my eye, and I enter the store without a second though. I pick up one of the pieces, a slinky little thing of black lace and pink bows. I set it back down, moving over to another rack where Christmas themed pieces hung.

The first I pick up has a sheer red bodice, and white fuzz along the neckline and trim at the end. It came with a pair of matching red panties and the rack had a large sign advertising the thirty percent off. I lift my old size off the rack, out of habit, but quickly surrender my previous medium, a size that accentuated my curves and breasts, for a smaller size that should hold me, as opposed to hugging me or, as the medium would now do, hang off of me like and oversized shirt.

"That would work," Cristina says with a shoulder shrug.

"Not for a gift," I reply. Really, did they think I would get my husband lingerie for myself for his Christmas gift? That wasn't just thoughtless and weird, but it was kind of rude too. "Just...for the fun of it." And I consider the fun that could be had because of it. Alex wasn't about to try and initiate anything right now, and my worries of how I would look to him now always stopped me from trying to seduce him by pulling my top off and flashing him my breasts, which used to be about the extent that it took to get him into the act.

Things were different now though, and my old stuff wouldn't fit me at all, and I missed sex with my husband. So with that reasoning I walk up to the register, handing the lady my piece without even considering what the price might be. This would be good, this would give us the push we needed to stop worrying about my less than picture perfect health and just be with each other in that way again. It would be good, I think again. Now if only they had matching cancer scarves to go with it.

9:33 PM

The sheer material slides through my fingers as I fiddle the piece of fabric in my hands, sitting precariously on the edge of the bed. I kept going back in forth in my mind, on whether I wanted to put it on or not. Six months ago I would have had no problem with it. I would strip right down and read a magazine until Alex got home or whatever. Now it was different though. Because I wasn't sexy, or at least I didn't feel sexy. I couldn't take my hair down and fan it out or use the special mascara on my eyelashes. The lingerie I had now looked like something far too small for the body I used to have. It was more fit to Meredith's figure than my own. Now it would probably be big on me still.

Another thing holding me back was the consideration that I might not be strong enough to actually...complete the act. What if I started getting dizzy or blacking out like happened on such simple tasks, like walking? How embarrassing would that be? There was also the fear of rejection. It might be because Alex thought I wasn't recovered enough from my chemo yet or that he was too tired, but it wouldn't matter what the explanation was if he said no. I'd feel incomprehensibly ugly and useless. I didn't know I could handle that.

But then all I could think of was Alex's distance earlier, and my inability to get him a gift for Christmas today, and I knew I wanted this for the both of us. I hear the door open and my breath catches in my throat. I thought for a second of just throwing everything off and sliding the miniscule material on, but I was still fully dressed and it wasn't like he took long to find me when he came in the house, usually coming to check I was still alive or something probably.

So that's why he ends up walking in on me grasping a sexy lingerie outfit in my hands, looking nervously up at him.

He doesn't say anything as he approaches me, holding out a hand to help me stand. He takes a long look at what I hold in my hands, and then looks into my eyes, still with no words exchanged. What if he was mad over the whole adopted child situation? Or hurt that I hadn't told him sooner? He definitely wouldn't want me then. Insecurity begins to creep into my thoughts as he still makes not a single move. I'm just about ready to walk away with my head hanging when he takes the lingerie out of my hands and throws it across the room, his hands then returning to my face as he kisses me passionately.

I respond with vigor, wasting no time as I open my mouth to welcome him in and bring my hands up to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He picks me up and I straddle him before we fall onto the bed together, him watching his weight to keep from harming me.

From there it's a flurry of torn off clothing and sensations that I had long since forgotten as he kisses and nibbles his way along my body. The sex isn't like it always used to be between us. It isn't hot and heavy as we roll around the bed and roughly take one another. It was just as passionate, but in an entirely different way. It's slow and loving, and filled with patience and contentment as we both carry on. We move slowly, not rushing any of the processes as we come together and find what we had both sacrificed far too long ago.

My insecurities flee, not worried about how I look as Alex rips my scarf off and throws it to the ground with the rest of my clothes. Not caring about the scars that still marred my body from my many recent surgeries. My mind wasn't filled with myself and my weaknesses though, or fears from Alex's behavior earlier today. The sensations of what was happening right there, between the two of us, took precedence over it all. It was gentle, caring, and utterly perfect. We were man and woman, husband and wife, Alex and Izzie. And we were whole.

**Alright, so maybe not the most satisfying chapter ever, and I know there were no answers on Alex's mindset and the Hannah ordeal this chapter but just wait for tomorrow. Also, I don't personally think the last bit requires this to be upped to an M rating, but if any of you think so do let me know. I'll change it if you consider it otherwise. Thanks to everyone for the reviews last chapter, more answers and developments coming soon. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	12. Chapter 12

Alex - December 12th 12:00 AM

Izzie's naked body is pressed against me as she sleeps soundly, her breathing heavy and even just like it always got. Every once in a while she would let out a small snore, letting me know that she was in that stage when she was really, really asleep. Despite her being so asleep though, I was stuck as she laid directly on top of me, her small, sick body curled on top of mine as her head rested on my shoulder. Now, considering we had a queen size bed and no direct need for such closeness, like warmth, I hardly knew why this had happened. All I knew is that I was kind of desperate to get away.

I didn't know what I was doing until I was way too far into doing it to care anymore. It was sex, and it was great sex, because sex with Izzie had always been really, really good sex. This sex had been different, honestly, but it hadn't lost anything because of that, it just gained a new element, in a way. And I loved Izzie, I had loved her for a really long time, and I was pretty sure I always would, but it hadn't been right, what had happened. We were husband and wife, it should be a frequent act, and one day it definitely would be, and her being sick didn't make sex entirely off limits either. She had been feeling well enough anyhow, tonight would have been as good night of night of any had the circumstances been different. Or really, just my mindset needed to change.

I was good at sex. That was something I'd been doing, and doing well, since I was fifteen years old. When life got messy and foster parents beat the crap out of you or your mother decided you weren't important enough to take back, there was still something I was good at. Whenever I emotionally ventured outside of my comfort zone, whether it be in school or work or relationships, I could just turn to the simple act of sex. When I started feeling too much for Izzie the first time, the underdeveloped portion of my brain that dealt with relationships, sent me off to screw a nurse. When things got messy, Alex Karev got dirty. That wasn't how it worked anymore though.

I had outgrown that, or at least, I'd thought I had. I'd learned to sort of talk about things with Izzie. She had a way of making me open up and talk about all those stupid feelings that I wanted to avoid and forget. She made me face what was in front of me and deal with it instead of running off to the nearest nurse and fucking her till nothing else mattered or going around and being an ass to anyone who spoke to me. But here I was, completely unsure about how I was dealing with this whole, treating Izzie's kid for the past two weeks and trying to decide what to say or not say. So instead of coming home and talking to her, like I had tried to convince myself to do all day. I had come home and seen her with that little scrap of sexy cloth in her hands, and couldn't help but think how much simpler some mindless sex would be.

Only, sex with Izzie was never mindless. It was passionate and hot and thoughtful. Because it wasn't sex with someone randomly hot. It was sex with someone hot, but also the greatest love I'd ever known. She was that person in my life who I lived for. So I couldn't turn my brain off when making love to her, because I had to put all of my love into the act itself. And tonight, because I couldn't turn my brain off, I wasn't able to just think about my wife and her endless brilliance in bed, as I was distracted by how she would react when I told her that I'd been treating her kid all this time. So not only had I tried to use her for the sake of forgetting my problems, but also to get out of talking to her, like I should have in the first place.

I wondered a lot on how Izzie would take it, knowing that her kid had moved to Seattle and was sick with cancer once again. But very often I found myself wondering how Hannah herself would react. After all, she had heard me talk about my wife plenty over the past couple weeks. She knew things about her mother without even knowing she knew, which made no sense. But she had eaten her cookies, gotten me to make up with her after a stupid argument, and had heard my worries from when she had been really sick. Hannah had come to know things about her birth mother, and it was almost this weird twist of fate that she ended up at this hospital, with me as her doctor.

I questioned the fact that her mother must have known Izzie worked there, since she'd come to her asking for bone marrow, and wonder what she would have done if Izzie were the one to have been on her daughter's service. Would she have asked for someone else? Told the girl who she was? Or just pretended the whole thing away. Make believe that she didn't know her and just ignore the situation. I was glad that nothing like that had happened, because it would have crushed Izzie and her resilient spirit.

I was in a crappy place though, that was for sure, and it didn't help that I had no clue what to do about it. Tomorrow I would say something, for sure. I would talk with her, not in the morning because she was always groggy and I had to run off to work, but when I got home. Maybe I'd try and leave early, despite it being Monday, and we could sit down and eat dinner and talk. That would work. The atmosphere would be calm, she would have had a good day, and we'd both be pleased that I was home early.

So that settled it. Tomorrow, after work, I would come home and explain the situation. It'd be fine. Really, it would.

5:22 AM

Not sleeping sucked. Laying in a bed, wide awake, just knowing you'll have to get up in a few hours and face a whole day on four hours of sleep, three hours of sleep, two and a half hours of sleep, one hour of sleep, it totally and completely sucked. Because there was nothing you could do about it and, with a sleeping woman on top of you, there was even less you could do about it. So now, you were just awake and there with your mind reeling and your body exhausted, and you had nothing else to do.

Knowing I hadn't had much sleep, I should have avoided saying a word to Izzie, just slid her off of me as carefully of possible and then tell her to "Go back to sleep" as I carry on with my morning and avoid all conversation. But instead I slap my alarm off, accidentally shifting her and causing her to stir awake, and then proceed to lay in bed, not getting up as I should have. I blamed the lack of sleep, made me think less logically.

"Morning," she says groggily, kissing me briefly before falling back against me chest. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," I lie, wondering if this was what she did on her bad nights. Pretend that she was fine just until I left and then just let herself feel miserable. I didn't want to lie to her, but now wasn't the time to be telling her just why I wasn't sleeping. "How about you?"

"Mm, good," she answers. I let her lay there on top of me still, rubbing her back as we lay in silence. I was hoping she'd fall back asleep, but it didn't seem she was going to as she started chatting again. "Cristina is impossible to shop with."

"Uh-huh," I say, wanting to avoid an 'I told you so.' Who would have ever thought shopping with Yang would be fun? Just the concept sounded awful. I wouldn't even want to go for a walk around the neighborhood with her, let alone a shopping spree.

"Alex?" she asks tentatively. "Have you...have you talked to George, at all?"

"What?" George? That's what she wanted to talk about right now? George. I hadn't slept in twenty four hours, her long lost kid turned out to be my patient, and I had a family that I stopped talking to years ago flying in five days from now, and she wanted to talk about _George._

"Did you tell him not to talk to me?" she accuses, and I try really hard not to overreact. I'd tried my very best over the past couple of weeks to treat O'Malley like a decent human being, which was hard considering who he was, and this was the thanks I got? Being accused of doing the opposite and telling him to stay away from her? I'd tried to get him to talk to her. I hated the guy but I still tried to help him and Izzie make up, _for Izzie._

"Why do you have to think like that?" I ask, disappointed that she would assume me the one who was causing problems between her and her odd best friend.

"No, Alex," she begins defending herself, I can hear it already in her voice.

"I don't want to hear it right now." I shift her off of me and get up. "I need to shower," is the excuse I give as I walk away. I wouldn't lie, having her think that of me kind of sucked. I got it, it made sense, and from anyone else in the world I would totally get it, but she was that one person who got me. She was the first one of the four of them to not just regard me as a total ass. In any case, I'd assume she'd be the one to at least try and think the best of me until the worst was proven.

And, well, keeping someone from their best friend, no matter how stupid or weird or potentially relationship destroying they seemed, that was pretty close to a worst.

6:18 AM

"You're a little late there, lover boy," Cristina comments as I walk in the locker room, finding everyone else dressed in their scrubs and ready to go. Whereas I was sweaty, out of breath, and still in my regular clothes.

"Shut up," I answer, making it a point in deciding to ignore her for the rest of the day. I didn't need to talk to Cristina Yang, so I wouldn't talk to Cristina Yang. Unlike Izzie, I wasn't dumb enough to put myself in her insufferable, treacherous, presence unnecessarily.

"Your wife's all concerned about getting you something good for Christmas," she carries on as she messes with the end of her stethoscope. "All I heard yesterday was, 'Oh God, what will Alex want?' and 'Seriously? Is there really nothing I can get him?'" She mimics Izzie very poorly, sounding more like a prepubescent boy than anything else.

"I said shut up," I snap back, getting right in her face this time. Maybe that way she'd take the message.

"Listen up!" Bailey shouts as she enters the locker room. I'm still in the process of swapping my jeans out for scrub pants. "We've got a trauma coming in downstairs, a family car wreck." I hear Yang hiss a quiet "yes!" next to me. "We'll assess more once we get down there, but be on your guard. I hear it's bad."

"There's gotta be something cardiothoracics worthy coming in," I hear Yang say to Meredith. "If nothing else at least some decent neuro stuff." I flex my neck, trying to both get out the kinks from last night and keep myself from clocking Cristina. Her voice was like nails on a chalk board for me today.

"Should be a good plastics day for you, Alex," Meredith says, sounding as cheerful as Meredith Grey ever sounds. I don't respond as I squeeze past the two of them, pulling my jacket on as I walk. They, unfortunately, follow. "What's with you today?"

"Nothing, let's just work," I answer, pausing to grab a yellow gown and some gloves. I pull it on quickly, tucking the gloves underneath my armpit to tie it quickly. I walk out front, finding Hunt, Torres, Shepherd, Altman, Sloan and Robins. This was no small accident, it would seem.

"Alex," Dr. Robins says, waving me over. "You're gonna be with me, okay?"

"Whatever." I really could care less today. Right now, I cared about finding a bed to sleep in...or a face to punch. I get shot a look for my response though, clearly being reprimanded with those eyes. The first ambulance pulls up, the paramedic climbing out to report things like a severed limb and complex fractures. Hunt takes it, and I spot O'Malley walking off with him. Had I seen him earlier I would have pulled him aside for a well earned chat.

The next ambulance swerves around the corner and, shockingly enough, the reports are of the thirty two year old male who had gotten into a crash, because he'd been shot in the heart. I can hear Cristina's inner rejoicing from over here, as I stand with Arizona and wait patiently.

"Two more coming," the Chief reports as he comes to stand behind Arizona. "Both kids. I heard one is far worse than the other."

"Yikes," Dr. Robins replies. "Karev, you can take the kid that's more stable on your own, alright?" she offers and I nod in her general direction. Two ambulances coming rushing around at the same time. The first paramedic jumps out, and I know immediately that one is Robins' as they start off with things like severe internal injury and brain hemorrhaging. The kid was critical, if not brain dead.

The other has reports of uneven heart beat, lacerations, concussion, and potential tib-fib break. This one got off easy compared to the sibling. The doors swing open, Robins gets right on top of her patient, who I glance over to see is unconscious with a paramedic performing CPR. Never a good sign. Mine was screaming her head off for her sister, but didn't look too disconcerted. I'm surprised as I go from looking at Robins' kid to mine, they looked exactly alike, obviously identical twins. My patient was eleven years old and alert. Thankfully, this one didn't look anything like my wife.

8:32 AM

My phone rings for the third time, I glance at it only to find it is, once again, Izzie. I silence it, putting it back in my pocket and returning to the examination on my patient. Her fractures had been set, heart rate evened, and had been given fluids. Her CT showed minor brain bruising and the stitching had been an easy fix. Pretty much I had to make sure her brain didn't start bleeding and she would be all set. So, really, the essence of that was every one else got some exciting, hot case whereas I was stuck with the sobbing, concerned eleven year old.

"Is my d-dad okay?" she asks for the fifth time.

"Listen," I answer impatiently, lifting my flashlight and checking for pupil response. "I'm here to take care of you. I don't know anything about anyone else." I was not in the mood to play this kid's doctor friend. "I'm not running around the hospital finding stuff out about other people when there's probably not even any news to share." I stick my light back into my jacket pocket, scribble something on her chart and walk out of the room without another word. I was sick of being the nice peds doctor. I wanted to be the plastics guy who didn't have to coddle his patients and tell them how good they were doing and that everything would be okay. I was sick of advocating for the patient, using constant dumbed down terms, and dealing with frenzied parents. I couldn't stand another day of it.

I wanted to do something exciting, the kind of surgery that gave you an out of body mindset as your hands worked cautiously through flesh and tissue and muscle. Too much of peds was befriending snotty nosed kids. I had no desire to be doing that.

I look in at the trauma room as O'Malley works away on the woman without an arm. It must not have been a clean cut as she still was without any arm as she laid on the exam table, bandages wrapped around what would now be a stump of a useless limb. That should be me, as the lady crashes and compressions are started. That should be me, as the paddles are placed and she won't come back. That should be me, as they quickly begin wheeling the guy away, rushing for an OR. But no, I was down here with the crying kid.

"Dr. Karev," Dr. Robins comes up behind me with a tired smile. "How's our patient doing?" she asks and I shrug my shoulders, not really having a response.

"Read the chart," I grunt, beginning to walk away. She could have reprimanded me for that, but instead she just walks into the patient's room. I hear her soothing voice put on as she describes what was happening with her family, namely her identical twin sister who was currently in surgery. I stop listening after a while, not really caring but having nothing else to do with myself. I'd go to the pit. With Yang unable to hover around I'd for sure find something surgical at some point in the day. If it was nothing too extensive I'd even be able to fly solo.

"Alex, we need a kidney," Dr. Robins says from behind me. "We need a kidney and there would be no better match for that girl than her twin sister."

"What do you want me to do about it?" It wasn't like I could just go in there and pull it out, and the kid would need parental permission before anything could happen. Which, with a father who had a bullet in his chest, and a mother without an arm or a heartbeat, I didn't think we'd be getting anytime soon.

"I need to get back into surgery to keep that girl alive long enough to get her sister's kidney. You need to talk to the next of kin, who's on their way, as well as Maria."

"Maria?" I question, was she supposed to be a social worker or something?

"Your patient, Dr. Karev!" she answers in a very annoyed tone. "I need you on this, Alex. So you need to pull yourself out of whatever funk you're in, and help me." I didn't appreciate the demands, and I didn't like that it had somehow turn out that I was her guy. I wasn't supposed to be the peds guy. I was supposed to be the plastics guys. So why was Dr. Robins coming to me with these problems? Why'd I have to be the one to do this?

"Whatever," I respond and walk away, ignoring my phone as it begins to ring again.

10:04 AM

"Her sister will die without it," I explain to the father's sister, who also was the godmother to both girls.

"And Maria? What will happen to her?" Her face is tear stained, she keeps taking these annoying shuddering breaths every few minutes, like she's about to start crying again but is stopping herself. Could they really have found no one else for this?

I sigh as I slump back in my chair. "Of course with any surgery there are risks," I explain dully. "Complications can occur throughout the procedure that may not have been foreseeable before. However, risk of these problems are low and should be noted, but not given high precedence." I roll my eyes, so very tired of the complications speech. We should just print them up and hand them to every patient and their extended family and call it a day.

"But living with one kidney, that can be a problem, can't it?"

"Many people survive with one kidney, however it can cause for a decreased quality of life, limiting what one may be capable of doing." I knew I should now jump in with, having her sister be alive would increase her quality of life far more, but I didn't. It would come down to the girl, I knew that already. The aunt could sit here and say she didn't want her to have the surgery till she was blue in the face, but if Maria consented, we'd get her to change her mind real fast I was sure. Or it could go the other way too. In that case, I was still without a surgery and Robins' patient would die, leaving me to look responsible for not acquiring a damn kidney.

"But, she'd save her sister, right?" she asks, twisting a tissue around in her hand.

"Yeah, she'd save her sister."

12:32 PM

I grabbed a drink from the cooler as I walked to a table in the cafeteria. It was too cold to even consider sitting outside right now. I find an empty table and sit down, ignoring Meredith as she waves me over. I wasn't in the mood for other people right now. Which is why I had officially turned my phone off, ignoring any calls that might be coming from Izzie or anyone else.

I'm just about to bite into my sandwich when the door to the cafeteria opens and in walks O'Malley. I throw my food down, appetite having suddenly vanished. He was the guy going around ignoring my wife, and I was the one taking the blame for it. He was the one who made Izzie question me, when he was the ass in this situation. For once in my life, I wasn't the bad guy, and yet I was still being accused of it. All because of that short, useless guy standing in line laughing with some nurse.

I stand, shoving my chair away from the table as I get up, leaving my food behind. I walk right past Meredith, who futilely tries to grab my hand and keep me from going anywhere. I'm sure she can see the anger in my eyes but, in that case, the determination should be pretty obvious too. I'd gone on with this for long enough. I had talked to the guy, tried to force him into going to Izzie herself, given him opportunities to visit with her, but he didn't take a single one. The worst part was, I hated him. I fucking hated this bumbling idiot of a surgeon, but I had kept trying to be nice, over and over, and it got me nowhere.

So that's why I stand right in front of him, stopping and staring into his weak little eyes as I stood over him. "Uh-Alex?" he tries to say, but I don't wait any longer, my rage having built up plenty to be effective as I lift my fist, and slam it into his godforsaken face. He slams into the plexiglass covering the food, blood spurting from his nose as he falls to the ground.

"Go to hell," I add as I begin walking away. Ignoring all of the screaming, Meredith's calls, and George's pathetic attempt to get up and hit me back.

2:05 PM

I stood over the splayed open girl, doing nothing as Dr. Robins operated, carefully removing the kidney and placing it in the ice bucket. My hand bruised at the most, but even still Dr. Robins had claimed she didn't want me touching this patient if I couldn't treat her right while she was awake. I'd gotten chewed out, and the only reason I was still on this case was because she wanted someone who knew all of the history to look after her during recovery. It would probably end up being a long night, which I was pretty okay with considering what I'd be going home to.

I didn't care if Izzie was mad at me when I was here, but I didn't like the idea of going back to the apartment, dead tired and irritated, only to have to listen to her bitch. I'd rather stay at work and listen to this eleven year old bitch, about her pain, the lack of information on her parents, that she was hungry, you name it and kids will complain about it. Another reason to hate peds.

"You may close, Dr. Grey. I'm done here." Dr. Robins sends me a look as Lexie begins checking the body cavity before stitching the patient up. It was a warning glare I got, telling me to mind my patient better. I wanted to send a "screw you" look back, but decided against it. I hadn't really listened that closely earlier as she raised her voice and lectured me over poor patient care. The kid was alive, how poor could the care of really been? But I still had garnered the feeling that she was pretty pissed at me.

I checked my watch, it had been six hours since she first came in and I needed to order an MRI to check her head out to make sure it wasn't too messed up. I pick up my cell to do so, but just as I begin to dial another call from Izzie comes in, making me freeze in my tracks. Maybe I should pick up, make sure she was okay and apologize. The ring tone carries on as I debate, stopping before I've made up my mind to answer or not.

Lexie watches me for a few seconds after the ringing stops, openly just stares, which is really pretty rude. "What are you looking at?" I ask, pulling off my surgical mask and leaving the room. At the very least I could go to the gallery and watch the other girl get a kidney.

6:22 PM

I set my tray down in the abandoned skills lab, grateful to be alone in order to eat my dinner. I was so sick of the curios glares I got from Yang or Meredith's concerned questions, and don't even get me started on how irritated I was with George walking around with an injured Bambi look on his face. What a sissy. So I sought out a place to be alone, away from all the looks and questions.

I took one glance at my hamburger before realizing that, despite not having eaten a thing all day, I didn't really have an appetite now. Instead, I pull out my cell phone and hold the power on button down as I watch it light up. It first alerts me of the four...five new text messages I had, followed with the six mixed calls. She could be damn persistent when she wanted to.

All day I'd been walking around in this funk, angry and rude to everyone around me, and I realized somewhere in the middle of all that, that she would be the one who would normally talk to me, calm me down and make my day a little brighter. All those days at work before when she would pull me aside and talk to me or we'd go out for a drink after work, it had a tendency to make the day suck a little less. Izzie was like, my mood buster. But now I was angry because of her. Well, her and O'Malley really. Actually, I guess a lot of the anger was directed at myself and my inability to explain to Izzie the fact that I knew her kid and had been treating her for a week now.

So, logically I knew that in order to stop being so angry and rude, and keep myself from getting fired, I should call her and apologize and talk to her. I needed to let her be my bright light in this suck-y day. Because even if I was still keeping something from her, I would tell her soon, and until then I could still talk to her. Our argument over George shouldn't control anything. It was about fucking George! Who cared if she thought I'd been the one to make her stop talking to her best friend? I hadn't said a word about knowing her damn kid. So it'd be like, calling it even, in a way.

My heart skipped a beat when I considered the thought that she might have been sick or not feeling well, which would have led her to call me. What if she was feeling dizzy or had thrown up, and I had just completely ignored her because I was kind of mad? My stomach ached at the thought and I wanted to call her back immediately, check and make sure she was okay. I was pretty sure she wouldn't just stop at me if she was in trouble, but sometimes it was hard to tell with her.

I was all ready to press speed dial and call her when my phone goes off. It was flashing a 911 for Maria. Great. I get up and throw my wasted dinner in the trash, taking the banana with me to eat later. And then I run, again. I twist my way through people and run down stairs, bursting into the recovery room to find her seizing.

"What happened?" I ask, sick of this symptom showing up in my patients. I help roll her on to her side, keeping my eyes on her blood pressure and heart rate, which was increasing by the second.

"She was sleeping just fine, but when she started to wake up her whole body just started spasming!" her aunt says desperately as a nurse moves her from the room.

"The concussion has led to a brain bleed," I announce. "Someone page Shepherd and let's get to an OR." So much for talking to my wife at any point in the next three hours.

10:58 PM

The surgery had taken longer than expected, being drawn out when we found a second bleed that had to be corrected. I was just about to leave for the night as I scribbled my latest update on Maria when Dr. Robins walks in, a severe look on her face.

"Dr. Karev," she says with a hint of anger. I didn't know what I'd done now, but considering I'd spent the majority of the time since I had last seen her in surgery with her patient she couldn't be that upset with me. Could she? "This is the patient I assigned you this morning, isn't it?"

It felt like a rhetorical question, but I was pretty sure I had to answer anyhow. "Yes," I say firmly, sliding her chart back into place and walking over to examine the monitors. I needed to inform the nurse of her next dose of pain meds.

"Then why in the hell did you not take her for a second MRI six hours after documenting her traumatic brain injury?" she asks, not yelling but instead talking in an extremely stern voice. It was fairly unnerving, especially when I realized she was right. I'd gotten distracted before ever ordering it, my mind occupied with thoughts of Izzie as she had tried to call me. I don't know how it had slipped my brain from then until now entirely, but somehow it had. "This girl could have gotten into a surgery in a timely manner and avoided bleeding so heavily had you not of been so irresponsible. What if she has permanent brain damage?"

"She won't," I dismiss easily on the outside, ignoring my twisted gut on the inside. People had brain bleeds and seizures all the time, and ninety-nine out of a hundred times they turned out perfectly fine. What if she turned out to be the one hundredth though? Then it would be my fault. All because of an argument.

"Well you're going to sit here and find out," Dr. Robins instructs as she drags a chair over to the girl's bed. "Until she wakes up, which probably won't be until morning."

"Really?" I ask, exasperated. I hadn't slept in thirty six hours, my main meal so far today had been a banana, I needed to make up with my wife, and a shower sounded damn good right now. But no, I had to play babysitter while a girl slept instead.

"Really. You're responsible for her need of emergency brain surgery and so you'll take responsibility." It was reminiscent to talking to Dr. Bailey, being lectured by Dr. Robins. She seemed so bubbly and friendly, but right now she was a little bit frightening. "You can get up for two reasons, Karev. Bathroom and food. Aside from that, I expect you in this room, the whole time she's asleep."

"Alright," I agree, just to get her to stop. "I'll stay." And to demonstrate my willingness to commit I sit in the chair she had pulled over, leaning back as I try and relax. "I promise."

"Good," she says, and then turns and leaves. I pick up my phone to call Izzie, wanting to explain my absence and reassure her I wasn't angry any longer, but a look at the clock tells me I shouldn't. Odds were she was asleep by now, out cold on the couch if she had been to reluctant to go to bed early. I didn't want to wake her just to say "go back to sleep I won't be coming home." It seemed silly. So I set my phone back down and lean back in the chair, trying to get comfortable for a long night ahead of me.

**First off, SORRY. I know you all were expecting happier times between Alex and Izzie after there opportunity to finally have sex last night, but Alex fooled you all as much as he did Izzie with that it would seem. And I know reading about Alex walking around being a total jerk isn't the most fun necessarily, but that is how he deals when he's upset with anything. This was really mainly filler, tomorrow there will be some more plot development, even if it isn't necessarily good. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	13. Chapter 13

Izzie – December 13th 3:04 AM

I'm baking. It's three in the morning, and I am not only awake, but awake and baking cupcakes. Cans of the holiday brand of Pillsbury icing lay out, sprinkles cluttering the counter tops and floors, and I was sure if I looked in a mirror right now my scarf would have flour in it. My eyes felt heavy, and my throat scratchy, but I couldn't sleep. I couldn't even comprehend trying to sleep. Because Alex and I had a fight this morning. That in and of itself wasn't the end of the world, we argued pretty frequently, but now he wouldn't answer my calls and he hadn't come home tonight. No phone call to even tell me that he was working late, which told me he was staying there voluntarily.

I wished that I knew how I felt about that. Was I angry? Or just irritated? Really I felt kind of sad, wanting him to come pull the spoon and mixing bowl out of my hand, ordering me to bed because I looked like crap. I missed my husband, and our bed would be too empty without him there to help fill it. The guilt was beginning to eat me alive laying there, remembering the awful accusation I had made of him that morning. I should have known it would have upset him, even if he had done as I suggested, it was still unfair to ask. I wanted to take it back, return to our early morning post-sex haze. But he had left too soon and after that I had no chance to even try and fix anything. He had ignored me, totally and completely ignored me. I had called him ten times, sent eight texts, and not a word had been sent in return. It hurt.

I go to wipe a tear from my face when I accidentally smear frosting on to my cheek in the process. I resign myself to the bathroom to wipe my face. It's there in the mirror that I see my frightening face. My eyes were red, like pot smoking red, and my cheeks had no color, a dull ashen gray shade to them, if anything. They were signs I needed to go to bed. I knew that from past experience. Only, I really didn't think I could. I had tried earlier, but had just laid awake and stared at the ceiling while my thoughts circled. It was awful, and so I had thought of what I used to do on nights like that. My answer was work, perform surgery, save lives, but I couldn't do that because I was too busy working on saving my own. So instead I landed on baking.

And bake I had. The kids at the hospital would be well fed. In fact, I was pretty sure that, if I kept at the rate I was going, I'd be able to bring some down to the older patients as well. Maybe I'd take some over to the nursing home if I got the chance. I had decided that tomorrow, well technically today, would be when I would take them. With Alex' family coming in on Saturday I needed to get a lot done still. I wanted to bake for them, as well as clean the house and get things in order. We needed to buy things like sheets for the couch bed and, preferably, some matching dishes. Plus I had to drag Alex out, if he ever talked to me again that was, in order to help select gifts for his sister and his mom.

I'm in the process of carefully pouring even amounts of batter into my cupcake pan when I hear the door open quietly. It was either Alex thinking that I was asleep, or a burglar who would be sorely disappointed when he found very little to steal. Unless he wanted baked goods. In that case, he'd have hit the jackpot. His shoes hit the floor as he kicks them off, probably intending to tiptoe off to our room, or crash on the couch. Sure enough he's stepping lithely on the balls of his feet when he passes the kitchen, dropping to a normal stance and staring at me in disbelief. "What are you still doing up?"

And just like that, all the sadness and guilt, it just fades away, replaced with utter rage. "What the hell, Alex?" I ask, my voice raised a few decibels as I place my hands on my hips, waiting for a response.

"Iz, I'm sorry, really," he starts, but I have no patience for apology speeches or stupid Polaroids. I pick up my spoon and fling it at his head, batter flying off of it as it goes.

"Shut up!" I yell, walking over to him and shoving against his chest. One, two, three times. "Just shut the hell up." And he does, not saying a word as I cease shoving him and stand in front of him, arms folded across my chest. I stare at him and him at me, both of us silent. "You're such an ass," I cry, falling into his chest as I sob tiredly. I can't hold it in, and he either isn't mad at all or can't deny me, as he wraps his arms around my shaking body.

"I should've called," he whispers, and I have a flair of rage. I want to yell at him for that stupid comment, because obviously he should have called. He should have done a lot of things aside from just call. The moment fades quickly though as I surrender to his embrace. "We can talk in the morning," he suggests as he begins leading me to bed, pulling me more to his side so we could walk. "I think right now we should both be sleeping."

I agree, entering our room, and stripping into my underwear as I climb into bed, falling gratefully between the sheets as I rest my head on my pillow. I hold a hand up, stopping Alex from following my actions. "Wait ten minutes, turn off the oven and take out the cupcakes. Then you may come to bed," I direct him and he doesn't argue at all as he resigns, exiting the room to go wait in the kitchen. I close my eyes, not able to fall asleep until ten minutes later when he comes back, crawling into bed after me and laying tentatively close. I'm the one to close the distance between us, not because I forgive him or anything, but because I was desperate for sleep. So I wrap myself around him and he lets me as I blink my eyes which don't open again after that.

8:08 AM

I wake up to someone kissing my shoulder, soft lips pressing in a little box of an area over and over again. I roll over, my gaze meeting Alex's who stared at me with sad eyes. "I didn't want to wake you, but I have to go to work," he says, which translates to, "I wanted you to sleep longer, but I knew you'd hunt me down and murder me if I didn't say goodbye." Which, was kind of true, so maybe he wasn't as stupid as I thought after all. "What are your plans for today," he asks as he runs his fingers up and down my bare arm. "Can I come back for lunch?

"Dinner actually," I suggest. "And then after that you can drive me to the hospital so I can hand out my Christmas treats tonight."

"Tonight?" he asks, surprised. "There's still two weeks until Christmas." I roll my eyes, obviously aware of that myself. He would feel the need to point it out though.

"Unless you want to be the one to start preparing for your family to come visit then you'll let me do it tonight," I say, finding that I am still rather irritated with him.

"Okay, okay," he resigns, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I'll be back around five, and we'll talk then, alright?" He kisses me on the cheek as he gets out of bed, walking around the room with ease from the daylight that could help him. It was far less painful sounding than other mornings. He goes for a shower, leaving me alone in the room for a short while to think. I make no move to get up, still immobilizingly tired from last night.

I consider his behavior from last night to this morning, the apologetic way he looked at me, his quick resignations when I asked anything of him. He obviously felt guilty for something, whether it be the argument we'd had over George, his ignoring me all day yesterday, or the way he'd acted after I had told him of Hannah. I still had this odd feeling about the whole situation, not trusting the sex we'd had to be an answer to my wondering of if he was angry or not. Alex Karev could still have sex when he was angry. What I did know was that he felt bad for something, and was now trying to make it up to me.

He walks back in, towel wrapped around his waist as he opens drawers to look for clothes to wear to work for the day. "When'd you put all of our stuff away?" he asks as he pulls on a pair of boxers. "I mean, from the looks of the kitchen it looks like you haven't had much free time."

I groaned, thinking of the mess I had left the kitchen last night with unused batter sitting around and half frosted cupcakes on the table. I blamed Alex for that. He'd made me go to bed after all. "Meredith did it."

"Weird," he mutters as he pulls a shirt over his head, taking his towel and rubbing it along his short hair before standing, dressed and ready for work. "I'll be back later tonight," he promises as he kneels by my side of the bed, kissing me on the lips. "I love you."

It's sincere, almost between an assurance and an apology. I lean forward and he meets me halfway in a second kiss. "Love you too," I murmur as he stands to leave. Things were messed up right now maybe, but so were we, and we would work through it just fine. Hopefully by the end of dinner I would have reason enough to finally put on my new lingerie tonight.

11:10 AM

I swear I'm sweating as I set the next batch of finished sugar cookies on top of the oven to cool. The kitchen was a small little room where heat collected in very quickly with the oven on as it was. I opened a window, letting in the freezing air from outside come in. I was half tempted to just go lay face down in the snow outside.

A knock comes from the front door and I stop to pull on my winter hat before opening the door, finding Meredith standing there with a bag of flour and a bottle of vanilla extract. "Thank you!" I exclaim as I hold the door open for her, taking my baking supplies and going into the kitchen.

"Oh my god," she mutters as she walked in. I could see why, I hadn't exactly skimped on anything. There were two containers of molasses stacked next to the gingerbread men in the corner of the kitchen. Four containers of chocolate chip cookies (with red and green chips to make them festive) dominated the table along with my many sugar cookies in various shapes. Cupcakes laid all throughout the kitchen, unable to be packaged like the cookies due to the frosting. A few batches of peanut butter kisses sat in a plastic on top of our fridge, but I had made those for Alex since they were his favorite. Plus, anything with nuts going into a peds unit was anaphylactic shock waiting to happen. There was also a batch of sugar free chocolate chip cookies set aside for the diabetic kids, an afterthought I'd considered when running out of sugar earlier. "Forget surgery, just open a bakery."

I laugh, looking around in appreciation for the first time. It was pretty impressive, what I had accomplished. Although my body was not very pleased with all of this work. I had developed blisters on my fingers from how much stirring I'd done in the past twenty four hours. "You want to help me hand these out tonight?" I ask, not really sure if I felt like attempting to cover large portions of the hospital in short periods of time. Especially with the dizzy spells I'd been getting since I had gotten up this morning.

"Sure if I don't get stuck in surgery," she says and I smile gratefully. If I kept baking like this, by the time the day was through I wouldn't even be able to go at all. I fan myself with a recipe card, bothered by the heat the more I stood in this room. "It's freezing in here, what's wrong with you?" she asks as I wipe a sheen of sweat off my forehead as I fan.

"You try baking dozens upon dozens of cookies and see if you still think it's cold," I suggest, setting back to work on my baking. I'd decided I would finish up what I had to do and then nap until Alex came home for dinner. I hated that naps needed to be incorporated into my schedule if I wanted to do anything later than six at night. It made me feel like a five year old.

"So, Alex punched George yesterday," Meredith reports as she walks further into the kitchen and leans against the counter, picking up a cupcake and taking a bite.

"What?" I couldn't believe him. Right when I thought maybe he felt remorseful for acting like an ass to me, hr turns around and acts like an ass to George too. Not to mention, George didn't really have the...stamina to be punched around. "Is he okay?"

"Has a nasty black eye, but aside from that," she nods, now distracted by her treat. "These are good, Iz," she says through a mouthful of cupcake.

"I can't believe him," I say, still stuck on my irritation toward Alex. I felt like I just needed to give him a good screaming tonight so we could all move on. He was being an idiot, and I, being the one dumb enough to marry him, needed to make sure I let him know that that just wasn't okay with me. I needed him to think a little more rationally. God, why couldn't he just treat people more like the way he treated me?

"He got himself in some trouble with Arizona yesterday too, from what Lexie told me." Great, now he was going to go and get himself thrown off the service of the one attending who was really taking an interest in him. I'd heard Alex talk about his cases in peds, and I really did think he had a future there. But no, he had to go be stupid Alex and screw it all up, didn't he?

"Hey, could you give me a ride to the hospital?"

11:46 AM

I stroll into the hospital, still wearing my sweats and only having bothered to keep my winter hat on instead of searching for a scarf to wear. I don't bother stopping to chat with anyone as I make my way to the elevators, jamming the button for peds. Meredith had dropped me off at the front door before going to park, saving me the effort of walking too far, I guess. I didn't bother arguing, getting caught up in my blind rage toward my husband. The elevator dings, opening up to let me out to the far too happy looking area that was pediatrics. Butterflies and flowers covered the pastel blue walls, and Christmas decorations were strung throughout the area. It was unnerving, especially with the knowledge of how often people died here.

I scan the floor, looking for my husband's face. My eyes find him, switching some sleeping kid's IV bag. I wait outside of the room for him to walk out, worried if I went in there I would burst at him and wake the kid. Ideally we'd find a private room, but I was getting angrier by the second just looking at him. How he could infuriate me at times.

"Izzie?" he asks as he walks out, a confused look on his face. It stops being confused after a second, and looks more alike to fear, as he registers my expression.

"You. Me. Empty room. Now," I demand in small, simple sentences. Maybe the neanderthal could handle it if I was clear enough. He opens the door to room a few paces away, waiting for me to enter before locking the door. I close the blinds, that way I didn't have to worry about an audience if I felt so inclined as to murder him.

I smack him across the face, satisfied with cracking sound it makes. "Ow!" he protests, rubbing his cheek.

"You are an idiotic, selfish, hateful, impossible man!" I shout. "You walk around, treating people like crap and thinking about yourself, doing stupid shit, Every. Single. Day." I throw my hands in the air, pacing back and forth in front of him. Honestly, this was the most energy I'd had in weeks. "I don't know what to do with you, Alex. Really." He watches me nervously, not saying anything. "Say something!"

"Remember that day I called you a stupid bitch?" he asks, and I really wonder if he wants me to slap him again. I step forward, and he, satisfyingly, takes a step back. "It was because I was stressed and mad about something else and you were...there, so you took the anger."

"Oh no," I interrupt. "This is not like that, Alex. I am definitely mad at you." I shake my head, walking away from him and sitting down on the hospital bed. My anger hadn't faded, but my body had grown too weak to display it any longer. I pull off my winter hat, my head beginning to sweat in this little room.

"I know," he nods, coming to sit down beside me. "I'm mad at me too." I look up in surprise, because he did look upset, almost a little lost.

"Why?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief at all the crap he'd done in a matter of twenty four hours, all the damage he had managed to do. "Why do you do this stuff, Alex? What if Dr. Robins kicks you off her service? What if you're put on probation, or worse, for hitting George."

"Oh please, it's not the first time someone's slugged someone else around here. The dude laid me out a few years ago himself," he reminds me. It was true. If I had a dollar for every fight that had been held in this hospital... I still remembered the day that I had been willing to attempt and fight Callie. I was scared out of my mind, but stupid enough to go ahead and do it somehow. "I know I'm being a jerk."

"You can be a jerk to me, Alex. I'll always forgive you," I say, putting a hand to his cheek and drawing his forehead to mine. "I knew how you were getting into this, and we can work that sort of stuff out, but other people, like George and Dr. Robins, you can't be like that with them."

He pulls away, replacing his forehead with his hand against my sweaty skin. "Izzie, you feel kind of warm." His palm presses on my forehead and then to each cheek before going back to his own skin, comparing temperatures.

"Don't do that," I say as I push his hand away. "Don't deflect this with your concern for me. This is about you right now." He sighs, surrendering his temperature taking hand as he stares at me.

"I'm going to apologize today," he promises, giving me a slight smile. "Although I can't guarantee I'll be all that sincere to George." I roll my eyes at him, he would never grow to like George. I needed to accept that. I just wish George could like me again. "I'll do better today, with everyone."

I nod, willing to accept that from him. "No more being an ass?" I ask.

"No more being an ass," he promises, and he pulls me in to kiss me in apology.

12:16 PM

I pass through the hospital, not really in the mood to go home and bake anymore, but unsure as to what I wanted to do with myself. I had to admit, I was legitimately tired from this short trip and the stress it had caused on my body. I knew I should probably go home and finish what needed to be taken care of for tonight and then nap until Alex got home, but I felt inclined to stay a little longer, for whatever reason.

My tired eyes scan the floor, looking for a familiar face. They find the pig-killer, who I had no desire to talk to, at all. When he shifts to the side though, I see that he's talking to George, who laughs at something he says. They both must not have anything to do, hence why they were standing around. I wince when George's eye comes into view. It was mix blue and black, obviously heavily bruised. Alex must have put some brute force behind that punch of his.

George spots me, his smile fading from his face as he watches me walk toward him. Was I really that bad to be around? Had I become that detestable to him? "Hey, George," I say, plastering a smile to my face. Hunt nods in my direction and then walks away, over to a frantic Cristina who juggled several charts in her arms.

"Izzie," he responds, looking around the room for someone, anyone, else to talk to. I hated it. I hated how he looked like a nervous deer trying to get out of a situation, but caught in the headlights and not able to think. I was his best friend damn it.

"Am I that hideous to look at?" I ask him bluntly, crossing my arms in front of my chest like I'd done to Alex. "Do I look too sickly for you to converse with?"

"What? Uh, no, no," he shakes his, a hand going to rub the back of his neck in nerves. "I was just...you know."

And then I cry. Because that was what happened these days when stuff started upsetting me. I either screamed or cried, and I had just finished screaming, so now I would cry. I put my face in my hands and just bawl. "What did I do?"

I can just imagine the helpless look he has on his face, as I stand in front of him crying my eyes out for, seemingly, no reason at all. It had been like this between us for months, every time I saw him it was awkward and short lived as he found some excuse to get away from me. It had been so long since the last time we'd had a real conversation. And now I had reached my breaking point. "Today sucked," I explain halfheartedly as I cry. I feel a tentative hand pat my back. I look up and smile in gratitude.

"I'm sorry," he responds sincerely. I don't know what he's sorry for. It could be because he hasn't spoken to me in days, or because my day sucked, or even because of that turkey sandwich he stole from eight months ago. Whatever it may be, he meant it, and that was all I needed from him. "And I don't think you're hideous."

"Then what is it, George?" I demand, my eyes still watering as I tried to wipe the tears away, giving up entirely on the third try. I move my hands to fidget with the scarf on my head instead. "What did I do to make you mad?"

"Izzie...it's not you," he starts and I roll my eyes.

"Let me guess, here comes the "it's not you, it's me, speech"? I wasn't aware you were breaking up with me." That makes me cry more, because in all actuality he had. He had broken up our friendship months ago, and I'd had no say in it. I draw in a shuddering breath, trying to calm my irrational emotions down. It didn't help that it was like, a hundred degrees in here.

"I didn't mean to..." he fades off, eyes looking to his pager, almost begging it to go off. "You're still my friend, Izzie."

I roll my eyes, giving a bitter laugh in response. "Screw you, George," I say in midst of my tears. I didn't want to talk to him like this, with anger and tears and insecurities. It had never been like that between us. We had always been so open and comfortable with each other. I didn't understand how these things happened. My mother and I, we grew apart because I moved away and refused to talk to her. Alex and I, we broke up the first time because he cheated on me. My best friend, Sally Hanes from the seventh grade, hated my guts because she thought I'd tattled on her for stealing makeup. For bonds to break that way made sense to me. There was a force and it was stronger than the bond, causing a break. Like a bone fracturing. It didn't make sense if your bone just suddenly split in half though. That didn't happen.

Then his pager does start to beep and he reacts to it, pulling it from his waistband and reading the message. "We've got someone coming in..." he says, trailing off. "But we should talk, later."

Yeah right, I was already talking to people later. My husband had plenty of talking to do 'later.' But later was no definite time frame, no promise of anything solid. "Yeah, sure," I answer, just as committed to the idea as he was in saying it. George didn't want to talk to me. I didn't know why, but I would just have to accept that, one way or another. "Later."

5:33 PM

"I brought chicken!" Alex calls as he swings the front door off, kicking off his shoes and pulling of his coat as he goes to look for me in the kitchen. He must have missed me laying on the couch, buried beneath a blanket, from where I had been sleeping just moments ago. "Iz?" he asks now, throwing the chicken down on the counter as his footsteps carry to the bedroom.

"Here!" I call out, sitting up regretfully from my resting spot. I take a breath as the room does a little dance around me, trying my best to get it to still.

"Shit, did I wake you up?" He could probably tell from my less than ideal looks right now. I could feel my scarf twisted on my head, a large jumper wrapped around my body, and there was some dried drool on my face that he reached over and wiped off. "Sorry."

"No, that was the plan," I say, standing from my position on the couch to go to the bathroom and wash my face. I needed to have dinner and get ready to go to the hospital. I lose my balance as I get up though, and reach out for Alex to help steady me. "Thanks," I mutter as he helps me even out.

I'm sure he's giving that worried stare of his, but thankfully he doesn't bother saying anything. "I stopped at KFC and got some chicken. Fried and grilled." I smile in gratitude, knowing my stomach would probably appreciate the far less greasy food. I hadn't eaten a thing of fries in six months, and I missed them sorely. "I'll get everything laid out while you do...whatever you need to."

"Okay," I yawn as I make my way into the bathroom, pulling the faucet to hot as I let the water run. I stare at my sunken face, with it's worn, tired look and try my best to literally wash it away with my cloth. The hot water feels good, leaving my skin tingling as I finish. I apply some makeup from there, trying to fill in beneath my cheeks bones and under my eyes, make my features fuller and less sickly looking. At the very least, the kids would know that I got how they felt.

I walk into the kitchen and take my seat, finding all of the food spread out for me already. I take a breast of chicken and a heaping pile of mashed potatoes, not feeling hungry just yet but hoping that would change. I hadn't eaten a thing all day. You'd think I would be hungrier. "How was work?"

"Eh, fine, I guess," he admits with a shrug as he bites into a leg. "Dr. Robins didn't give me any crap after I apologized."

"Good," I say with a smile. "So what happened with you, exactly?" I ask, twirling my potatoes around my plate with my fork, taking a miniscule bite and a huge gulp of water to wash them down. They felt so thick and rough, almost impossible to swallow and hold down.

"I..." he starts and fades off. He looks contemplative as he picks at his cornbread, not meeting my eyes. "I guess, I just overreacted about the whole O'Malley deal is all. I heard he knew about your kid and just...I didn't, I guess."

I eye him speculatively, and then realize how much it all made sense. The distance, the punching, the anger, he felt insecure over George, which was ridiculous and he would never, _ever, _word it like that, but it made sense. "I'm sorry," I say now. "I didn't mean to make it sound like that."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs and smiles. "I'm just glad we can get over it now."

I smile in return. "Me too."

6:55 PM

"You're just staying on this peds floor, right?" he asks as we get out of the car. I pull my coat a little bit tighter around my body as we make our way into the hospital. The decrease in temperature at night was very quick, and pretty extreme, dropping into the teens or less on several nights. I clutch Alex's arm as we walk, unsure of my footing from the occasional patch of ice you might find in surprise.

"Yeah, I'm not sure I'll have enough to make it to the peds oncology ward. I promised all of my friends I'd bring stuff to them." Despite my marathon baking, by the time I had finished frosting and packaging all of my treats I realized only so many could come with me. I'd loaded some cookies in a basket and had settled for a plastic to carry a few dozen cupcakes in.

"I'll uh, do the peds oncology unit if you do though," he offers as we enter the gloriously warm hospital. He takes my coat off of me, revealing my festive outfit of red and green. I had even unearthed some candy cane earrings I'd bought a few years back. "Just so you don't wear yourself out."

I roll my eyes, but know he's probably right. Plus, I had to admit I was just grateful he was willing to help. I knew it wasn't his sort of deal. "Meredith offered to help too."

"Well go have fun, Elf Karev," he says with a charming smile, kissing me as we walk to the elevator.

"I never consented to taking your last name," I remind him with a pointed look. The elevator doors open up and I walk in, pressing the button to go up to the peds floor.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters as the doors shut on his face trying not to smile. I shift my basket from one hand to the next, feeling out of place in this hospital without either scrubs or a gown. I wasn't the one who brought cookies, I was supposed to be the one who cut them open and made them better instead of making them smile as I handed over a snowman shaped cookie. Would it ever shift back, my life falling in the way as it should of instead of this deterioration of illness and hospitalizations? I wanted it back, so one day, if I lived, it would have to happen. Wouldn't it?

The doors open and I put a smile on my face, carrying around the only instrument I had to make people better right now. A little holiday cheer.

8:43 PM

The little girl giggles as she takes a lick of the frosting on the cupcake I just handed her, giving an excited squee from the goodies she'd been offered. That had been the majority of my night, along with some not so happy kids as they laid miserably in their beds, because of pain, or meds, or exhaustion. Most of them adapted these huge smiles though, getting all the more excited when they saw the shapes the cookies had and pointed out which ones the wanted. The parents all smiled gratefully at me, some even asking for one themselves.

My friends in the oncology unit had been excited, just to see more so than for any treats, though some of them did take those happily as well. Many claiming they would eat it now so maybe they wouldn't have to barf it up later. We discussed treatments and diagnoses, a few discussed sadly with me about Henry, almost drawing me to tears once or twice. They asked about mine and Alex's plans, which I told them happily, my stomach twisting in nerves each time I thought about it.

I'd finished both of those floors and was finding I still had both more treats than I expected, as well as more energy, and so I resolved to go to the peds oncology unit on my own, not bothering to interrupt Alex like he had asked me to. It was nice that he was willing to help, but I didn't need it and I was well aware that he didn't _really _ want to hand cookies out. He just didn't want me doing it myself and landing myself back in the hospital. Which was silly, really. If anything he should prefer I was in the oncology unit where there were no infections to contract.

I leave the little girl's room, turning back and giving her a smile as I go. She waves her little hand back and forth happily. I hated to imagine what she would like in a few hours when her chemo started kicking in, wearing her little body of all that precious energy. I shake my head, ridding it of such depressing thoughts. Now was not the time to start getting depressed about the sick, cancer ridden children who I understood far too well. I had only made it through the first two rooms so far.

I take in a deep breath as I go to the next room, knocking lightly on the door. "Come in," I hear a young, female voice call. I open the door, staring down at the cookies in my basket as I walk in, performing mental math to see how many more rooms I could go through if each person took three. If only I'd paid attention to damn Ms. McGonagall in the sixth grade. I hated math.

"Hi," I say cheerily as I look up, my heart stopping at the sight of the girl in the bed before me. I don't register anything else around me as I look at her and her pale, bald head. I knew this girl, in a far lesser form than I actually should considering I'd given birth to her fourteen years ago. The day after tomorrow would be her birthday, her full name was Hannah Joy Roberts, and she had my eyes. That was the extent of what I knew about her really. Oh, and she had leukemia.

"Are you okay?" she asks, pulling me back to reality as she stares at me, her eyes like a laser shooting through my brain, stopping all conscious thought.

"Um, fine," I stutter, trying to shake my head and forget who was in front of me. This was my daughter, that little baby girl I'd held in my arms so many years ago, the child who I sacrificed my bone marrow for in order to try and heal her. This was her, in front of me for the first time, talking to me, not as her birth mother, but as the cookie deliverer I currently was. "Cookies?" I offer, wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible. How did this happen? Why had her parents brought her here? _Here_ of all places! They knew I worked here. They also knew that she wanted nothing to do with me. She was supposed to live in California.

"Are you sure? You look like you might need this hospital bed more than I do," she jokes with a concerned glint in her eye. "Hey, I know how the chemo can get to you out of no where some days," she says. "There's no shame if you need to sit."

"N-no," I extend the basket to offer her what was left in it, trying to duplicate the action I'd performed all night long. "Cookie?"

"Sure thanks," she pulls one from the basket and stares at it for a second, then shrugs her shoulders and takes a bite. As she does her face seems to light up. I wasn't aware they were quite that good. Although, George always had been appreciative. I've just remembered how to move my feet to walk away from this room and back to where things make a little more sense when she says, "You're Alex's wife!" with a smile on her face.

"Huh?" I answer, completely lost in my thoughts and unsure as to how she knew my husband. Then there was a click though. From laying the hospital bed, demanding he tell me about his day and his patients, of the young girl with leukemia who he had resected a tumor filled spleen from. Her name had been Hannah. Then there was the night of my confession, the claim he made that George had caused his reaction when, in reality, it might have had nothing to do with George and far more to do with...he knew her. He knew this girl laying in this bed, and he had learned she was my daughter, and he had said nothing. Not a word to warn me or just the courtesy to let me know he had been operating on my kid.

"Dr. Karev, I mean," she corrects herself quickly with the shake of her head. "He brought me some of these cookies the other day. They're rocking."

"Thanks," I answer awkwardly. What did I say? How did I respond. To any other patient I would have smiled, conversed normally with about knowing my husband and being his patient. It'd be easy, natural, but this wasn't a normal patient, not by far.

"He mentions you a lot. I'm glad you're feeling better, though you look sort of green right now. Are you sure you don't want to sit?" She scoots over on the bed even, making room for me if I wanted. "He's always really nice, will come and talk with me when I get bored, even. I know most doctors aren't like that. He's probably more sympathetic though, understands how it is more than most, you know."

Why was she still talking? I hadn't responded at all, but she just kept talking. I didn't want to hear anymore about how great my husband was or all the nice things about me, because it just screamed "Liar!" every time in my head. And this was the girl who wanted nothing to do with me, had no desire to ever meet me or talk to me for a single minute in her life. Yet she had sat here, chatting away with my husband.

"Do you want me to call my nurse in?" she asks now, standing up and taking a step toward me, holding out a hand in case I lost my balance. "Or I can page your husband, if you want."

"No, no, I'm okay." I stand up straight, ignoring the spinning world around me, which I doubted was from any low blood pressure or high temperatures. Was it betrayed, that I felt? Or just sadness? Sadness in the knowledge that my daughter would talk to Alex, but not say a word to me? "Um, Merry Christmas," I say, with probably some weak smile on my face as I begin to walk away.

"You too!" she yells after me, watching me go with worried eyes.

I don't stop again as I walk through the halls, in search of one very specific man. Meredith calls out to me, asking if I wanted help or something, I didn't really hear her as I went. I just thrust my basket into her hands, walking away without a word.

I go into the elevator, going off of a hunch and pressing the button to return to the peds floor. Sure enough, the doors open and he stands there, peering into rooms, looking for me I was sure. I wipe a tear that had somehow formed as I walk over to him, taking his hand and pulling him out of the middle of the hallway and against the wall. "There you are!" he says with a smile. "What's wrong?"

"Did you know?" I ask simply, not accusing, but also being no fool and feeling the need to add anymore. Of course he knew, how could he not? But I'd let him answer for himself, confirm in his own words what I already knew. Did he feel bad for hiding it? Did he know how upset I'd be with him? Maybe that's why he hadn't bothered to say a word.

"Yeah," he answers quietly, and I can tell from his tone that he knows this isn't a good thing. He's aware that I'm angry, at least. Right now I have nothing more to say though, as I turn and walk away from him without another word.

**Phew, Day 13 is finished. For whatever reason this seems to have been a lot to write for whatever reason. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Also, sorry with whatever dilemma happened on fanfiction the other day. I got a couple of reviews/messages about people not being to view the latest chapter. Whatever it was seems to have resolved itself though! Let me know your thoughts on this chapter. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	14. Chapter 14

Alex – December 14th 12:00 AM

There was a crack on our living room ceiling that looked a lot like a rabbit. That was the majority of what I had accomplished in the last two hours as I lay here. I'd come home around ten to find a pillow and blanket sitting on the couch for me to use and the bedroom door shut tight. I wouldn't have been surprised if, when I tried the door, it ended up being locked too. I wanted to go knock on the door, try and beg her to talk to me, but I knew it would get me no where fast. She would have to come around and decide to talk herself. She was angry and hurt and probably a little bit confused, and I had caused that so I needed to let her come around herself right now.

I don't know what happened. I really didn't. I was the guy who told the truth, always. I never lied to patients, never sugar coated any procedures or outcomes. I faced the truth, I knew the truth, I told the truth. I didn't have a lot going for me most of the time, but I was never a liar. But somewhere in me, that had shifted. Not because I didn't want to tell the truth to Izzie, I did, but I didn't want to hurt her with that truth. I never used to take people's feelings into consideration for those things, but I could see her mind working, how her heart might break if she asked to talk to that girl again and she denied. I couldn't do that to her, not when she was so weak. I was constantly terrified of her dying. I hardly needed to be the one to stress her out and land her in the ICU again.

I should've stayed with her, kept her far away from the peds oncology unit and convinced her to take some cookies downstairs or something. I shouldn't have left her alone for five minutes, let alone two hours. Of course she wouldn't have paged me to help her, what a stupid thing to believe she'd do. I regretted that she not only had to find out but, because of me, she had to find out in a pretty bad way. I wondered if Hannah's parents had been there, what they might have said to Izzie. Did Hannah know the truth by any chance? I can't imagine their greeting could have gone like that, but who knew.

Meredith had found me shortly after Izzie had stormed away, leaving me frozen in place as I mentally berated myself. She had the basket in her hand, looking at me questioningly as I took it from her. "What happened?" she asks as I try and walk away from her. "Izzie looked pretty upset when I saw her. Did you punch George again?"

"Shut up," I answer, trying harder this time to get away from her as I go into a patient's room and pick up their chart. If only they hadn't been out cold maybe she would have left. Instead, she carries on in a whisper.

"Did you upset her _again,_ Alex. Really?" she rolls her eyes and then smacks my arm. "She tries really hard to love you, but you seem to make it pretty damn difficult." I still don't respond, pretending to find the pneumonia kid's chart to be the most interesting read. "Well, are you going to tell me what happened or not?" she demands, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at me.

"No," I answer, placing the chart back at the end of the kid's bed and walking away yet again. I needed to find an awake patient somewhere. "Go away."

"She's my friend too, and you...you seem to be having some issues, and you're also my friend." I stop, turning to face the persistent, tiny girl. She held her ground and watched me with disbelieving eyes.

"I'm angry," I admit, ready to turn and walk away again, but she grabs my hand to hold me in place.

"Angry at who?" she asks. "At Izzie?" I shake my head, how could I be mad at Izzie right now? I wasn't very often all that mad at Izzie. I got angry and took it out on Izzie, but I usually wasn't that pissed at Izzie herself. She was always so...good intentioned that it was hard to stay legitimately angry for long. We could argue for days, but my anger usually ebbed after the first few hours when I realized that I'd been the one to overreact and freak out on her. It happened a lot.

"Of course not," I answer instead, it was a lot shorter. "I'm mad at myself."

"Alex, whatever happened I'm sure she'd rather just talk to you then have you both walk around miserable while you act like an ass and she bakes thousands of cookies."

"She won't be talking to me anytime soon, I don't think." I look to the ground, ignoring the hate I felt for myself for just a second. I'd messed up, big time. I hadn't made the right choice and I knew it as I avoided telling her every chance, as I lied and said her obsession with O'Malley was the thing that was bothering me. I knew it as I'd made love to her. I knew it as apologized earlier that day. I definitely knew as I kept on trying to hide it by keeping her away from the peds oncology unit, keeping her away from the opportunity to find out. I knew it, and I'd done nothing about it.

"She loves you, Alex. I'm sure she's sitting at home waiting for you to go talk to her right now," she paints the picture in my mind. Izzie's sitting on the couch, her scarf would probably be in her hands as she twisted it through her fingers. Maybe she'd be in the kitchen even, baking for our impending company. I'd walk through the door, just like last night, and she'd be angry and yelling and I'd stand there and take it. Then she would stop, the whole world would be silent, and I would try my best to explain and, because she was Izzie, she would get it and she would let me apologize and make it up to her. Things would be okay again as we went to bed, and I would hold her as we fell asleep.

That picture smashed to pieces the second I'd walked through the door tonight to find not a sign of Izzie anywhere. She was angry, and I needed to let her be. On her own. So I would lay on this couch and get a crappy night's sleep as I spent most of it wondering and worrying, just praying that she would somehow manage to forgive me. I know that she does it a lot, but that's part of love, right? Being willing to forgive, even if the person doesn't totally deserve it again. At least, I hoped that was part of it. If not, I was screwed.

5:23 AM

The alarm didn't even have the chance to go off after having a crappy night's sleep with a side of crappy on top of it, just like I knew was coming all along. I kick off my blanket and get up, stretching my stiff muscles like I used to every morning in the hospital. I go into the bathroom, turning the shower on and getting in, ignoring the fact that the water hadn't even warmed yet. With the amount of sleep I was getting these days the colder the water the better, probably. I needed something to wake me up.

I remember then that this is my last day of work until I got my glorious week and a half long break. Which also meant I had only a few days until I had to deal with my crazy mother and stranger sister. I swear to god if Izzie and I haven't made up by then...I'd be seriously screwed. I get out, grabbing a towel to wrap around my waist. It dawns on me then that I need to get into our room, for a pair of clean underwear if nothing else. I hope she hadn't locked the door as I'd mentally accused her of last night.

The knob thankfully turns easily as I try it. I tiptoe into the room, careful not to stumble over the shoes in the middle of it. Her breathing was even, at least one of us had managed to get some sleep. I pull out what I needed, careful to slide the drawers out with as little noise as possible. I pause, turning back to look at her as she sleeps soundly, able to be ignorant to the world and her stupid husband for a few hours. I felt all the worse as I watched her sleep. I should have woken up next to her, kissed her goodbye, but no, she wasn't speaking to me. She didn't want me sleeping next to her or kissing her goodbye.

I sigh to myself, walking over to the window and pulling the blinds shut as I draw the curtains together, just as I did every morning to keep her from being woken up by the sunlight. She was a light sleeper when it came to light. "I really am sorry, Iz," I whisper to her still body before shutting the door, leaving her in blissful ignorance for a little while longer.

6:02 AM

"Meredith!" I call out as I start walking into work. She turns to look at me, thankfully since she had every right to walk away after how I talked to her last night. It seemed most people were used to that from me though, at the very least. Maybe that's just what they expected from me. Alex is an ass, oh well, let's go get dinner. It was just a normal thing to people now. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. I wasn't that guy. I didn't want Izzie to be known as the woman stupid enough to marry the ass of a husband. She deserved better than that. I could give her more than that. At least, I thought I could.

"Yeah?" she asks, waving goodbye to Derek as he kisses her on the cheek and walks into work. "Ready to explain?"

"It's not my place," I answer, shaking my head. How pissed would she be if I went around telling everyone that she had a kid. There was obviously a reason she'd kept it to herself for all these years, even to me. I wasn't putting it out in the open now. "But I need to ask you a favor."

"Depends," she answers callously with a shrug. I could tell she was playing up the "I don't care act." Obviously she was plenty interested in what I had to say or else she would have just walked away. None of us really strive for politeness around here.

"I just wanted to ask if you could check on Izzie at some point today? Keep an eye on her and all?" I wish I could do it myself, bring her lunch and keep her company during the day. I wish that I could take her out to dinner, or watch a movie with her. All I knew right now is that there wasn't a grand gesture in the world that would get me out of the mess I was in at the moment.

She smiles in response, nodding her head. "Of course," she says. "But you should talk to her too." If only it were that easy.

1:39 PM

Mark, my previous brain surgery patient, talks to me about his friends at school being impressed about the staples in his head, and the goes on to complain about no video games for a few weeks due to the surgery. I listen patiently as I check him out, normally it would be a conversation I would enjoy, but my head was full of different thoughts right now. "Looks like you're all set buddy," I say, clapping him on the shoulder. "Get some rest and you could be out of here tomorrow."

"Yes!" he says with an excited fist pump. I walk out of the room, checking my charts to see where I needed to go next.

"Hannah," I say, caught off guard by the girl's sudden appearance. Did her nurse know she was wandering around? I look over my shoulder for some distraction to draw me away. She was a sweet kid, nice to talk to and mature for her age, but she was also my wife's daughter, the one she had given away and wasn't allowed to talk to herself. If Hannah knew who I was in relation to her, she probably wouldn't want much to do with me either. So I needed to find her some other teeny bopper friend to talk to.

"I saw your wife yesterday," she says with a smile. "She seemed kind of weird, but nice, and her cookies are totally killer. She seemed pretty sick, you might want to take her temperature or something." God, how she could talk. I could just stand here and she would chat and not even miss a response, I was pretty sure. And yeah, I was sure Izzie did look sick, all things considered. "My mom freaks whenever I look the slightest bit off, and if my temperature even looks like it might go over a hundred she has me in bed for like, three days."

"Smart woman," I say. "You know the deal with infections and cancer," I remind her, shaking my head. I needed to not be here right now. But it was almost addictive now, knowing that this was Izzie's daughter and I was the one who could talk to her and learn about her without her knowing. She was a lot like her mother, when you knew what to look for. I wondered if Izzie knew that she loved animals too. There were pictures in her room now, of her on the back of a horse and two of her with a couple of dogs.

"Yeah, yeah, so why are you all awkward like your wife today?" she questions, quirking her head to the side as she looked at me. "Don't tell me you two are fighting _again._"

"Something like that," I answer, drawn back to reality as I consider it. We were fighting. She currently pretty much hated me and wouldn't look me in the eye. All because I was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. "Just me being stupid again."

"You two can't possibly have that much to be fighting over. Either way, I'd forget whatever grudge you're holding and at least get her checked out and make sure she's okay." It was sound advice, cancer patients with illnesses were ICU bound in minutes. Catch it too late, try and pretend it away for a few days, and the morgue will be the one treating your body. Izzie didn't have an illness though. She was sick with distaste for me, maybe, but the only she had looked sick yesterday had been the surprise that greeted her. "Who's fault was it this time?"

I roll my eyes, she was too interested in this. "We need to get you back to your room," I say, and she nods, looking a little unsteady on her feet. I grab an empty wheelchair for her to sit in, which she does. At least she doesn't argue like her mother. "And mine. It was definitely my fault."

"Would you like some more help on grand gestures?" she asks with a smile. "Because holding a boombox outside her bedroom window has been pretty effective for other guys."

"I'm getting you a book," is my answer to that. "You watch way too many movies." I should hand her chair over to someone else, let her nurse come get her, have her actual doctor keep her company. She wasn't my charge anymore, and this whole little friendship kick we had would hurt Izzie. I just couldn't do that to her. I could always tell Hannah the truth, but that felt as much my place as mentioning anything to Meredith. If Izzie wanted me to say anything, I would, but until she said something I was keeping my mouth shut.

"I'm only allowed to do so much reading after brain surgery," she reminds me. "What kind of doctor are you?"

"Haha," I answer sarcastically and roll her wheelchair into the elevator. "No more roaming the halls. Stay on your unit." I know she's not the first patient to wander off of their floor for something more exciting. Izzie routinely walked through the majority of the hospital on good days, but that was different. Hannah was a kid. "Today's my last day," I announce and she turns around to give me a weird look.

"You're quitting?" she asks, sounding shocked.

"No, no," I quickly correct. Not that quitting didn't sound good some days. If only I didn't have rent to pay and a wife to currently support. Oh, and Christmas gifts to buy. I should probably look into that sometime before the 25th. "I'm getting a break for the holidays."

"Wow, didn't know doctors got breaks. You might want to make up with your wife so you can use it well," she suggests with a pointed look. I push her from the elevator, back to her room which was still empty. I knew her dad worked, but I was beginning to wonder where her mom had gotten to.

"I'm working on it," I answer honestly, if only I had the slightest idea of what to do. I help her back into bed, keeping a firm grip on her arm as she stands from the chair, now even more so unsteady on her feet. I hand her the banana sitting on her tray with a look. She waves it away and takes a cookie to have a bite out of instead.

"You should steal me some. They're delicious," she suggests through a bite full of cookie, some crumbs falling from her mouth. Wow, talk about a younger version of Izzie. I shake my head, forgetting that this was Izzie's kid, forgetting that I had the opportunity to know her, forgetting it all as I turn to leave. "So, I'll see you when I come back for my next treatment?" she asks, and I hated that her voice sounded a little sad. People were supposed to hate me. When had I turned into the guy who befriended lonely thirteen year old patients?

I should say no, point out that she belonged to a different team of doctors in a different section of the hospital, but for whatever damn reason I can't. So instead I answer, "Yeah, sure," with a shrug and turn to leave from her room, turning back as an after thought to add, "Happy birthday," before walking out for good.

3:11 PM

I take a breath, reminding myself that I was doing this for Izzie as I go to approach O'Malley. There may have been an apology that I had originally neglected yesterday, one that I would definitely follow through on today for the sake of the fact that she was ten times angrier right now, and if I could get O'Malley to talk to her again then I would be the king.

The guy was sitting at a table in the cafeteria, munching loudly on a bag of sun chips. What self-respecting man ate sun chips? I stop myself there, forgetting the fact that I hated O'Malley's guts as I walk over and sit down at his table. He literally flinches away when he sees me and I roll my eyes. But, considering the large, discolored bruise on his face, I guess I understood some.

I look him in the eye, take a breath and then grit my teeth as I say, "I'm sorry."

"Listen I know you're pissed but please don't-what?" he asks, stopping in his begging for me not to slug him again to actually register what I'd said. The surprise on his face didn't really help much.

"I'm...sorry I punched you," I say the best I could. If Izzie could see me right now she'd be giving me a medal. I definitely felt like I deserved one for this.

"Wh-what?" he says again, looking around the room. I'm not sure what for. Maybe some cameras to see if he was being pranked. "You are?"

"Listen," I instruct. "Don't sound so surprised. You're Izzie's best friend which, unfortunately means I can't punch you in the face. However, I can and will if you don't fucking talk to her and make nice already. I've given you enough opportunities in the past two weeks to do so. So do it!" I don't wait for a response as I shove away from the table, walking away from the waste of air that was George O'Malley. Hey, just 'cause I had to be nice on the outside didn't mean I couldn't still hate his guts on the inside.

4:24 PM

Shepherd, Sloan, and Hunt are all sitting around in the cafeteria, as I walk in with my tray of food that I really didn't feel much like eating. I couldn't help but wonder if Meredith had kept good on her promise and checked on Izzie. She needed to be eating, and without someone checking on her I feared that she wouldn't. Plus, what if the food was making her nauseous? She usually liked for me to make her eggs when that happened, and tea. She always liked a cup of tea when her stomach didn't feel good. I should have mentioned this to Meredith though. It was a little late now.

I'm about ready to just dump my tray of food in the trash and go home, checking on Izzie myself, when I see Shepherd waving me over. Wait, what? The attending was inviting the resident to come eat lunch with him? I mean, it wasn't high school but generally the groups kept to themselves. Unless, of course, residents and attendings were screwing which, wasn't all that uncommon around here. I knew for sure that I wasn't screwing Shepherd at least. Which meant Meredith had put him up to it. Insisting he keep me company because my wife currently hated my guts.

"Hey, Alex," he says as I sit awkwardly. The other two stare at him like he's a little crazy before turning to me and shaking my hand in greeting.

"Listen, you don't have to babysit me just 'cause Meredith sent you to."

"I actually needed your help on something," he says as he takes a bite of rice, prompting me to do the same when I realize just how starving I was. Had I ever gotten around to lunch today? I didn't think so.

"You want me to scrub in on something?" I ask hopefully. Maybe it'd be a long procedure, something to keep me at work until late into the night so I could just go home and sneak into bed next to Izzie. She wouldn't even wake up, probably just roll over and find me in her sleep. Then maybe I could sleep for a few damn hours.

"No, you're married," he comments instead. I raise an eyebrow in confusion at him. He had thrown my wedding, I'd hope he's aware that I was married.

"Um, yeah," I answer. Although, with how pissed Izzie was we'd see how long that lasted. It was a joke to myself but it just made me flinch instead. How often did couple break up because of lack of trust? I didn't want that to be us. That would _not_ be us. I wasn't living in fear of losing her only to go and give her up myself. I wouldn't let it happen. No matter how angry she was. I wouldn't let it happen.

"Well I'm stuck on what to get Meredith for Christmas and these two are totally useless, so I thought you might have an idea. What are you getting for Dr. Stevens?" It was a simple enough question, one I should have the answer to by this point, but really I had nothing. I hadn't had enough time to think about groceries, let alone some dumb Christmas gift.

"Um," I say, trying to improvise. What's a good gift? "I don't know," I finally admit. "If I was ever with a girl before on Christmas I'd usually just get her lingerie."

"That's what I'm saying!" Sloan agrees, giving Shepherd a look that insinuated how well he knew he was right. "Fail proof gift right there."

"Well, now that we're married maybe I should do something a little more...personal?" It was a guess really. I didn't know what husbands bought their wives for gifts. Jewelery, I guess, but what did poor husbands buy their wives for Christmas?

"Exactly," Derek agrees with a nod. "I was thinking maybe getting her a trip to somewhere. The two of us, some place warm, relaxing, surgery free."

Hunt laughs at that one. "Cristina would kill me if I even thought that something like that would be good for her." Yang would be the one who would refuse to go on a cruise or something. And if she did she would probably end up getting into Hunt in her sleep, from going through withdrawal or something. "I was going to get her an engraved stethoscope."

"That's good," Derek says, commending his plans. "She'll use it."

"Yang hates Christmas," I say around a bite full of pizza. "You sure she even wants anything?" I remembered far too well all the years I'd heard her bitch and complain about Burke and how he forced her to light the menorah and exchange gifts. I'd say give her a break and let her screw the holidays if she wanted to screw the holidays. If only Izzie could feel like that about Christmas.

"I can't just not get her anything, can I?" he asks.

"Nope, definitely not," Mark cuts in with a head shake. "Every time a woman says she doesn't want a gift, it means you better get her an extra special gift. It's some weird woman test they do."

I roll my eyes. Had any of them ever talked to Cristina? "Yang is not like most women," I point out.

"Oh shut up, you don't even know what you're getting your wife," Sloan says with an eye roll. I never had grown to like that guy.

"I could finally get her a proper ring," I say, thinking how I'd had every intention of doing that right after the wedding, only too be side tracked by bills, near death experiences, and exhaustion. Now might be a good time to do it.

"Nope," Mark denies immediately. "You were already supposed to get her that. It's like...cheating the system. Chicks hate when you try and cheat the system."

"What's she like?" Shepherd suggests and I shrug my shoulders. I would rather be talking to her right now then talking about her to other people. I wondered if I should start with an apology and go into an explanation, or start with an explanation and finish with an apology?

"Christmas," I answer with a shrug. I knew many more things that she liked, obviously, but I didn't feel like talking about it anymore. All I knew was that whatever I ended up getting her, had better be pretty damn good.

11:52 PM

I faced the wall as I lay in bed, grateful that she had let me be in the bed tonight at least, instead of exiled to the living room, but still missing my wife. She wouldn't talk to me, not really, and what she did say had this hurt tone to it. Like I'd kicked her in the shin and she hadn't gotten over it. It made for a pretty crappy guilt complex. I felt like there was something else going on with her too, because she'd hardly yelled at me at all, and I had been expecting either a lot of yelling or a lot of crying, only to find her essentially lifeless while she laid in bed. I should be glad, but I definitely wasn't. I was concerned, either she wasn't feeling well or she was really that angry at me. There were very few times that Izzie Stevens had ever been angry enough to not yell.

I flip to my back roughly, staring at the ceiling and trying to match my breaths with Izzie's even sounding ones. Hopefully if I worked on that long enough I would be able to fall asleep. I was tempted to pull her to me in her sleep, knowing she probably wouldn't wake, but then I thought of how she didn't want that right now and decided against it. I was her husband, but currently not allowed to touch her. I was a crappy husband, at least we had established that in the past couple of weeks.

My breathing exercises are interrupted, which causes me to open my eyes and look over at her, wondering what might have woken her up. I don't see her brown eyes staring back at mine though, instead I see her body locked for a second, before she begins to seize roughly, shaking the bed as her body spasms out of control. I jolt up grabbing her quickly and turning her on her side. "Damn it!" I shout as I look around for my phone. I needed to call an ambulance, and fast.

My heart stops as I gather all the familiar signs of seizures. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and her skin begins turning blue as she continues to shake. It was a helpless feeling, with nothing to do but fumble around on my nightstand for my phone. I knew what drugs to give her, how much, and all the ways I could help her, but here in our bedroom I was powerless to do more than watch. My hands finally land on my phone and I dial 911, listening to it ring as I replace the pillow behind Izzie's neck after it was knocked off the bed.

"911, please state your emergency," the calm voice answers. I know that I should be calm, but I felt nothing but panic as she continued. It shouldn't be lasting this long. What was wrong?

"My wife's having a seizure!" I yell into the phone. "She was laying here sleeping and then...then she started shaking. She has cancer," I pause, somehow breathless. "I'm a doctor."

"Alright, sir, I'm dispatching an ambulance now. I need you to stay on the line with-" the shaking stops and I throw the phone down, not caring about staying on the line with some minimally trained technician who knew the basic idea of medical attention. I put my hand to her neck, checking for a pulse. I find nothing.

"Damn it," I curse again. She would have to do this right now. She'd be the one to have a seizure in the middle of the night and scare the shit out of me. I move her to the flat surface of the floor and start compressions, counting under my breath after each one. "You're not allowed to do this!" I yell, filling her lungs with air once, twice, and then going back to forcing her heart to beat. "Come on!" I yell, ignoring the horrific sound of her ribs cracking. I check her pulse again, my hand fumbling over the area for a second before pressing down correctly. I wait for a second to feel the pulsing beneath my fingers. There is none.

**Ooh, evil aren't I? Perhaps you should review in hopes that Izzie's heart begins to beat again. Thanks for all of you who did review last chapter. You guys are super great with it and always make it fun with your speculations. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	15. Chapter 15

Izzie – December 15th ?

Everything was foggy and distorted in my brain. I kept hearing this voice, over and over again. The voice was like an angel's only it sounded angry, but also sad. The angel was crying over me, asking me to do something. I couldn't really understand what it wanted from me. What I did know was that I had hair. Long, blonde hair that had the perfect wavy texture as it fell down my back. My body wasn't sallow and weak anymore, I saw as a mirror came from somewhere to stand in front of me. I looked into it, seeing my self with my hair now swept back as I stood in my long, pink ball gown. I looked young, healthy.

A figure finds me, in a white shirt and jeans. I think for a second that it must be Alex, who else would be coming to dance with me in my dress? But as he gets closer I realize it is not Alex, but, "Denny," I breathe out in a whisper. A smile forms on my face involuntarily. I want to run and hug him, but as I try to get closer he just seems to move farther away, my feet never really making any progress. I frown down at them, seeing the heels I had in place. No wonder, I thought as I reach down to take them off. No one could run in these things.

"It won't help," he says, and I'm distracted from my shoes, looking back up to meet his gaze. He was so healthy, nothing like the man in the hospital bed, and he didn't feel imaginary to me like before. He wasn't the ghost I'd tried so long to deny. It was like he was...real. Only, he was so far away. Why couldn't I reach him? "You have to choose to come to me," he says with a broad smile, a hand reaching out for me to take. Even though it looked like it was mere inches from me, when I reach out my own hand to grab it, it doesn't reach. It was almost like my depth perception had just been totally changed. "You have to really choose to come with me."

I give him an odd look, of course I would go to him. He was Denny, and Denny and I...we were meant to be, weren't we? How could I choose not to go with him? "Of course I do." I try again to walk toward, but still no progress is made. "Do I have to sign a form or something?" I joke. Why wasn't he in bed? He shouldn't be out of bed so soon after surgery. Was he planning on taking me to the dance?

"You haven't really chosen me, Izzie," he answers, which just confuses me more. "You married someone else." What? Who had I married? Denny and I were engaged. Why would I marry anyone else? "You're trying to fight cancer."

"What?" I ask, truly confused now. "I'm a second year intern. I don't have time for weddings or cancer," I say with a laugh. Had he taken too many of his anti-rejection pills? He didn't seem like he was totally in his right mind.

"You're a third year resident, married to Alex Karev," he tells me.

I laugh at the obscenity. Marry and Alex Karev did not belong in the same sentence. Long term relationship and commitment were two more that just did not apply with his name. "Alex? He cheated on me with Olivia. Why would I ever marry Alex?"

Denny smiles at me widely, his hand still extended in my direction. "That's my Izzie," he says with a tone of pride. Of course I was his Izzie.

"Are you out of the hospital so soon?" I ask, looking around us in the unfamiliar setting. The walls were all bright white, nothing but the mirror I'd seen myself in earlier sat in the room. "Are you sure they shouldn't still be monitoring you?" It felt like just yesterday that he'd had the heart surgery, and I was still in my gown for the dance. What had I missed? Was there something he wasn't telling me?

"We should sit," he says and I give him a curious glance. I find a chair right behind me, which was odd because I could have sworn nothing was there a minute ago when I had glanced around me. Oh well, I just must be overlooking things in my confusion. I promptly sit as Denny does the same. I cross my legs and stare expectantly. Was there some sort of explanation coming? "Izzie, love." I smile at the term of endearment. "I died."

I laugh again. He really was being ridiculous. Not as absurd as him suggesting I had married Alex, but still pretty out there. "Okay right, and I have cancer, remember?"

"Izzie," he says again, his tone surprisingly grave. He seemed so...serious. Only, how could he be serious over matters like this? He was speaking absolute gibberish!

"Are we going to dinner or something? 'Cause I'm starving." My stomach rumbles as I say it, further accentuating my claim.

"Izzie, I can't go to dinner," he explains and I roll my eyes.

"I knew you weren't supposed to be out of the hospital yet!" I accuse, ready to get up and force him back to where he belongs. Walking around in the middle of nowhere so soon after a heart transplant like this, was he trying to get himself killed?

"I can't go to dinner because I'm dead," he answers and now I'm just getting frustrated, and a little bit concerned. Was something going on with his mind? Had his meds caused him to begin losing the sense of who he was? It happened sometimes, as a side effect. We would need to try something else.

"Okay, Denny," I say patiently. I needed a wheelchair to help try and get him back to the hospital. Where was the hospital anyhow? A wheelchair shows up next to me, another odd appearance. I must have thought this through earlier and just forgotten about it. "Well, even if you are dead, dead people go to the hospital, right? So I'm just going to take you there." I stand up, gripping the handles on the back of the chair as I begin to make my way toward him. I hoped the hospital wasn't far. I didn't know where my car was in order to drive him there. If only he would stop moving away from me...

"They already had the funeral," he says. "Remember? My father came to visit you afterward."

Suddenly, I feel weak, sad, like a hole has been torn through my chest. I can't breathe for a second as I fall to the ground. It was true. Denny...Denny had died. I had come up to the room in my dress, a smile on my face as I came to greet my fiance. Only, he hadn't been breathing. The pain, it was suffocating as I faced his death. Just an hour ago he had been proposing! How could he be dead now? It was...not real. It couldn't be real.

I look up to tell him he couldn't do that to me. He wasn't allowed to die, but he was gone. Instead, in his place, was a kitchen. I'm able to walk to this, entering in and smelling the delicious sent of chocolate cupcakes, freshly baked. The oven dings and I walk over, pulling them out. I've forgotten an oven mitt, but the pan doesn't burn. I turn to place them on the counter top, only to find the whole kitchen cluttered from top to bottom with muffins and cupcakes. There was no room for any more. I would just give some to Meredith to take to work.

Work...I'd almost forgotten about going to work with all this baking. Thankfully when I turn around it seems I've gotten there somehow. It's not work though, I'm on a dock and there's fire and people screaming and injuries everywhere I turn. I must look so very out of place in my gown. What do I do? Where do I go? I see three men, they wave me over and I run after them, holding my dress up so my heels don't snag it. They lead me to a crying man who was crushed beneath a car. I've done no other examination on him, but somehow I know just what he needs. I lift the power drill and place it against his skull, beginning to drill in with no fear. The skull is cracking and breaking beneath the power saw, my own hands vibrating as I work to hold it steady, finally giving as I break all the way through. I stop immediately, knowing I have just saved his life.

I stand now. I had saved him and was surely needed elsewhere. I walk away and into Meredith's living room, a bottle of scotch and George waiting for me on the floor. I smiled, so grateful that he was finally away from his stupid wife. I couldn't remember her name just now, but she drove me crazy. She didn't love George like she should, and George deserves the best.

I sit down next to him, taking the bottle of scotch from his hand and dragging a swig. It burns down my throat, but then it feels good. One drink was enough to set me into full drunkenness. Everything's so funny as George talks, sending me into fits of hysterics as I throw my head back in laughter. Out of no where he kisses me, a long, slobbery drunk kiss, but it was romantic still. And I was so lonely and tired of having no one, and frankly kind of horny, that I want to just keep going. I want to keep kissing and taking off our clothes, but out of nowhere it feels wrong, just totally wrong, and I need to cover myself back up again, so I zip my dress back up all the way, walking far away from George and his drunk sex.

I walk back into work, reaching behind my neck to pull my hair up. It's gotten short though, just above my shoulders instead of it's previous long style. I shrug, not thinking much of it as I chase after Meredith and Cristina down the halls, trying to stop them from reaching other patients before I could get to them. These damn heels kept slowing me down though. I was going to sprain my ankle if I kept running in these.

I pause, seeing Alex and smiling at him in greeting. I was worried for him, but I couldn't remember why right this second. Then I see him turn from me and stand next to some other woman. Ava or something, her name was I think. He's feeding her eggs, bite by bite in Meredith's kitchen, trying to coax her to eat as she stares at him with empty eyes. This wasn't right. He didn't need to be with someone who wasn't mentally stable. I needed to tell him, explain that he could do so much better.

So I run toward him trying to get to him before it was too late, not that I knew when that would be. By the time I reach his side Ava is gone and he is crying. "I care about you!" I yell out, trying to see if he could hear me and I could make it better. He shouldn't be crying, Alex didn't very often cry, and he looked so sad. "I care about you!" I yell out again, still attempting to garner his attention. I seem to have caught it as he kisses me, long and hard.

"I freaking love you!" he exclaims as he kisses me again. When he pulls away we are both sitting on the bed in the on call room. Alex loved me? When had that happened? Did I feel the same? I did. I must. Because then I'm the one kissing him, and it feels just right.

"But I'm here for you," Denny says out of nowhere. I spin on my heel, my dress swishing around me, trying to find him. He was here for me? But I thought he had died? Had he really been living all this time? "I'm here for you, Izzie." I smile, happy to have him back again. I could touch this Denny, he was right at my fingertips. I grab his hand and kiss him, but then Alex has his hand in mine, tugging me to him and holding a birthday cake with a singular candle out in front of me. He had remembered my birthday? That was so unlike him. He smiles widely as he presents it to me. "Izzie," Denny interrupts, trying to get my attention again.

Next I know there's hot air blowing on my face, my hair and dress flying all up around me as I shout over the noise to Cristina. I had cancer? It was stage four metastasis melanoma? How had this happened? Everything inside of me hurt as I realized what this meant. I was dying. I was going to die, and Denny wanted to take me with him. I see him standing just outside of this steam room, hand outstretched for me to join him. It was very tempting, but I wasn't done quite yet so I walk in the other direction, running into Alex in his tuxedo.

We're standing at an alter, hand in hand. I've been dressed in a wedding gown, my ball gown now replaced with a white, sparkly dress, and he holds my hands firmly to keep my in place from my unsteady feet. I can't understand him this time as he speaks, it's like he's trying to talk from underwater. I hear myself declare "I do" however, and he does the same, and then we're kissing and everything is perfect and glorious. I've never been more in love or happier in all my life.

Somehow I've landed back in a hospital bed now, as I vomit and shake from the chemo. Alex holds my hand and Meredith fluffs my pillows. I'm well taken care of as the poison is injected into my blood stream, trying to rid my body of it's cancerous cells. I'm self conscious when I realize that Meredith is here and I don't have anything to cover my head. Where was my scarf? I get up to try and find it, surprised that my legs don't give out on me. I walk and search until I see Denny in my field of vision again.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in fear. Denny standing before me meant that the tumors were back. I'd need more brain surgery if that were true.

"You can come with me now, Izzie," he says and I remember years and years ago when he had extended his hand for me to take and walk with him. I'd agreed without a second thought then, but I had so much more to live for now. I couldn't just leave everyone. I was in my third year residency! I would be finished in just two years, hardly the time to quit. And what about Alex? He was my husband, and he loved me. I couldn't leave him. "Nothing can stand between us now if you choose me," he says.

There's a part of me, and it wants to. It wants to reach out, and take Denny's hand, and go with him wherever he wants to go. But Denny was dead. The only place he could go was heaven. Maybe a graveyard or two, and I had a husband waiting for me in the real world. I'm sure he was somewhere, probably waiting for me to get home so we could have dinner. "I'm sorry," I say shaking my head as I begin to cry. I didn't want to say goodbye, but Alex...he needed me. I needed him.

And then the voice from so long ago becomes more clear, far less distorted as I get closer and closer to it. It hadn't been an angel after all, but Alex, and he was begging me over and over again to breathe, I think. So I do, it's easy, effortless, now that I knew what he wanted. I keep breathing, beginning to regret it as the light, empty feeling I hadn't noticed in me before is replaced by the heaviness of my bed ridden body. I open my eyes to the room around me, the beeping machines giving away my location as my vision remains blurry.

Alex is sitting next to me, his hand gripping mine tightly and his head laying on the bed next to it. He was all hunched over from the chair he sat in and snoring lightly. I reach a heavy hand up to run through his hair. I felt an odd inclination toward him, like something had brought us closer together without my even being there to witness it. I felt like I had been asleep for so long, like years had gone by me and I didn't even know it. I knew that couldn't be true though by the date written on the white board in my room. It must have just been a dream.

"Water," I mutter, trying to rouse Alex from sleep. He used to be a heavy sleeper, dozing through a full on thunderstorm without a problem. Like most interns, he'd learn to sleep when he could and get as much as possible. My illness had changed that for him though, and he now reacted quickly in his sleep to even the smallest of sounds.

Now is no exception as he jolts up and looks around in a half asleep haze. "Izzie?" he asks, his eyes finally landing on mine. "Thank god," he mutters as he buries his face in my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my weak body. I felt so tired, simply moving my arms in reciprocation was exhausting. "I was so worried."

"I'm okay," I reassure him, patting him on the back in comfort. He pulls away, scanning me with his eyes he peppers my face with kisses. Whatever happened must have been pretty bad to draw this sort of reaction from him.

"Don't go pulling stuff like that on me again," he says sternly. "You had me so scared." He holds me to him again, and I could swear he's crying as I hold him back, my hand running against the back of his short hair.

"What happened?" I ask, still pretty clueless on how I had ended up here. I remembered feeling so cold and tired as I'd gone to bed. I hadn't felt right for days, and I thought that combined with the stress of mine and Alex's argument might be to blame for it as I went to bed before seven. It didn't seem all that obscene for me to have landed here because I was sick though. Deny as I might of tried before, it wasn't the most unlikely thing I had heard.

"You had a fucking febrile seizure is what happened," he answers irritated. "Your heart stopped beating and they had to shock you in the ambulance to bring you back."

"Febrile?" I ask, confused. "Those only happen in kids."

"That's what I said," Alex answers with a shake of his head. He holds my hand in his as we sit there, just grasping it for dear life. I squeeze back in confirmation. "But Bailey said that your temperature must have gotten so high, so fast, that it caused the blood vessels to narrow which is what brought the seizure on."

"And the whole, heart not beating thing?" I ask, the thought not sounding good to me personally. I wondered how Alex had gotten around the DNR this time? I'd be sure to get that fixed before I left the hospital this time. It obviously had no effect, and gave Alex far more concern than it did me relief. So, there was really no point left in it.

"She said that's from how weak you are. It doesn't take much for it to just...stop," he shrugs, answering nonchalantly, but I could tell from the way he looked at me that he had been terrified. "I should really call Dr. Bailey in here..." he says, mostly to himself, it seems.

"Alex," I say as I grip his hand as hard as I could in mine. I was sure it had to be at least a little stronger from a week or so ago when I'd done the same thing. "Are you okay?" I would never forget the last time something like this had happened. How I had died in his arms and he had yelled at me about it after, saying how he needed me, that I couldn't die on him. He had spent most of his time before then begin distant, avoiding talking to me or touching me. We needed to get this part out of the way now this time.

"No," he answers. "I'm an idiot who does stupid shit that his wife should never forgive him for, but he really, really hopes she does."

I smile at him, almost having forgotten before about Hannah and his deceiving and the feeling of betrayal in the pit of my stomach. None of that had mattered right then, and it clearly didn't matter to him as he had sat by my bedside for who knows how long, begging for me to wake up. It wasn't something I could forget about or overlook, but right now in this hospital room, it wasn't the most important thing to me. Being angry at Alex had been entirely forgotten as I was swept in the love I felt for him right now. "Izzie forgives Alex," I say with a smile, his previous third person usage bringing back memories from years ago with our odd patient and the joke we'd created. "But Alex still has some explaining to do."

A smile breaks out across his face as he kisses me with vigor. "Alex really loves Izzie."

7:48 PM

Dr. Bailey walks in, chart in hand as she comes over to my bedside. She gives me a stern look as she stares down at me and I just know that I'm in for quite the lecture. "Do you have any idea what could have happened had Alex not of been there?" she asks me and I look down at my hands that were twisting the blanket. "All because someone, couldn't be bother to take their temperature." She shakes her head at me as she swaps out my IV bag. "This is the sort of stuff you used to see in here all the time, Stevens. You should know better."

"I know, I know," I say with a sigh. I guess throughout the past few days the symptoms had been there, making themselves far too well known. The nausea, the temperatures that seemed to fluctuate from hot to cold throughout the day, my exhaustion part way through the afternoon. All obvious signs as to what was going on, but I dismissed them as leftover chemo symptoms. It wasn't odd for me to be exhausted and sick to my stomach the week after chemo at all. Still though, I should have known better.

She turns on Alex next, smacking his head with the folder. "And you," she says in an angry tone. "You were too busy running around being all mad at everyone around you that you failed to notice. Is that what happened, Dr. Karev?" She adapts an attitude to her tone at the end, raising her eyebrows as she waited for a response.

"I think he feels bad enough, Dr. Bailey," I interrupt, because he certainly did. At least for this that is. The whole Hannah situation would be dealt with later, as previously decided. I wasn't looking forward to the conversation, I still got a twinge in my gut when I realized that Alex had known for days and hadn't said a word. Days is a pretty long time, and it's not like we don't talk. Well, I guess when he's being all avoiding and such we don't talk, but otherwise we talk plenty.

"For almost killing you I'd hope so," she says and then takes a breath, pulling a chair over and sitting herself next to me. She shifted from the angry Bailey to the motherly Bailey I'd come to known just like that. I feared that meant bad news was coming. "Now we need to talk," she tells me and I feel like all the oxygen has been stolen from my lungs, I reach my hand out to find Alex's. What were we talking about? I didn't like the sound of that, personally. "Now calm down, it's nothing all that bad."

"You could have mentioned that to start," Alex comments, the both of us taking in a deep breath of relief. Don't start a chat with patients by saying "we need to talk." Something I would have to remember for when I went back to work.

"I just need to discuss how long you'll be with us for, what we're going to be doing, and how you can't lie anymore or I'll make you move in here," she threatens, obviously without any realism, but it was frightening all the same. "Now, you have a basic infection, along the lines of a flu or cold which-"

"With my poor immune system is potentially life threatening and requires me to remain in the hospital for the time being to monitor my condition," I finish for her. I'd given the speech enough times that I hardly needed to hear it myself. I knew the deal. I was stuck here until they claimed me well enough to go home. I just wanted out of the ICU now that I was conscious at least.

"Shut up and listen for this part," Bailey commands, so I do. "When I, or anyone else who works in Seattle Grace Hospital, asks you if you do not feel well, and you _do not feel well_, I expect you to tell us the truth? Do you know what that is Dr. Stevens? Can you tell _the truth_?"

"Yes, Dr. Bailey," I answer, nodding solemnly in response. "I promise that the next time I feel less than one hundred percent I will tell someone."

"Good, 'cause I'm not putting all this work into saving your life so you can essentially kill yourself." She stands from her seat, replacing my chart at the end of my bed and checking her watch. "Don't have near death experiences in the next twelve hours and we'll move you to a regular room."

"Thanks," Alex says as she leaves, exhaling dramatically. "Do you ever feel like a kid in the principle's office when she yells at you?"

"I never got sent to the principle's office," I say in a singsong tone, mildly mocking him for good humor. "Although I'm not surprised you were."

"Show off," he mutters with an eye roll as he sits at the end of my bed.

"So you know what this means, right?" I ask him with an eyebrow raised. I'd put it together not long after I woke up and had now kind of gotten over it. If it hadn't already dawned on Alex though I was pretty sure he wouldn't be too happy. He looks at me in question, waiting for me to finish. "It means I'll be in here when your family arrives. Have fun."

9:39 PM

"I'm starving," Alex says as he flips through the TV channels, never settling on something for more than a minute before changing the station again. Were I not half asleep I probably would have taken the remote and smashed it against his head at this point.

"Go get something to eat and stop messing with my damn television then," I comment crankily, actually pulling myself closer to him as opposed to letting him get up. "And get me a cookie while you're at it."

"A cookie?" he asks and, although my head is tucked against his chest and my eyes closed, I can just see the eyebrow raise that he was undoubtedly giving me. "Don't we have about thirty dozen at home?"

"Well we aren't home right now are we?" I question, still unsure if I actually wanted to let him up or not. I'd been sleeping merely from utter exhaustion these past few nights, what with fighting with Alex and all. This was the first time I'd felt truly relaxed.

"You have to let me up before I can get you anything," he says as I wrap an arm up around his neck.

"Mm, maybe not," I suggest, knowing it makes no sense as I say it but just trying to keep him here a little longer.

"Izzie?" I hear George's voice ask timidly. I shoot up then, eyes scanning to find him. He's standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking entirely unsure about what to do. "I didn't wake you, did I?" It was a silly question since he probably had heard me talking just a few seconds ago.

Alex pulls away from me and stands. "I'll go get that food now," he explains and kisses the top of my bare head.

Oh shit, where was my scarf or a hat or...something? I was sitting here all bald and exposed and it wasn't just Alex anymore. It was like being naked, having my scalp all exposed like it was. "Hand me my scarf would you?" I ask, looking around for where it was.

"You don't have one, Iz," he explains. "You weren't exactly awake when we brought you here," he reminds me with a bitter tone. I scan around the room, looking for something I could use. I couldn't sit here and talk to George, not like this. It just felt...wrong.

"Here," Alex says, pulling a plastic, disposable shower cap from the bathroom and placing it on my head. "Better?"

I give him a small smile, trying to forget George for a second and just convince myself to take it off. I was sure it looked just as ridiculous as the towel I'd wrapped around my head the day I'd gotten out of the shower and Meredith had been there. It was like I was playing pretend with my hair. "It'll do," I shrug, grabbing his hand before he can take off. "Don't be long," I ask of him and he nods. I didn't know how this would go, and I wanted to give George an out if that was what he needed.

"Hey," he says as Alex leaves the room. "I heard about what happened."

"Of course you did," I dismiss simply. "Last I checked this place was the biggest gossip ever."

"Not as much without you," he says in a joking tone. It was probably true though. I had to admit, I did enjoy some decent gossip, which there was no shortage of here.

"Well I'm glad to hear that." I try to sit up, but my pillows are all droopy, making it hard for me to lean against them. George intervenes, reaching over and fluffing them up to help me. "Thanks," I say with a smile. "So how've you been?"

"Oh...you know," he answers, which I really don't. Kind of why I was asking, after all. It becomes awkward fast as he says nothing and I say nothing, just thinking about how much easier it used to be. I love George, he's my best friend. Only, I can't talk to him anymore, which, kind of defeats the purpose of a best friend.

"How's your eye?" Looking at it now it still looks as bad as two days ago, maybe with a slightly dulled purpler appearance instead of the obscene blue it had been before.

"Eh, it's nothing," he tries his best to just brush it off.

I roll my eyes, like I didn't know better. "Hurts like hell, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, but don't tell Alex," he asks and I laugh in response. "His fist is like a brick wall."

"Or your face is just exceptionally fragile," I point out, smiling broadly at him as he sits in the chair next to my bed, propping his feet up and leaning back as he begins to talk.

"That's not fair," he replies, running a hand down his cheek, almost like he was checking my theory. "He had anger on his side. Unfair advantage."

"Uh-huh, likely story," I laugh as he pretends to be offended, joking with him more as we carry on into the latest trivial matters here at the hospital, and discuss the guy who'd gotten shot by his wife, who had found he'd been cheating, while driving down the highway, almost killing them all. It quickly becomes easy, effortless, like we had stopped trying to breathe underwater and had finally come up for air. It was the comfort that had always belonged in our relationship, the simplicity that had never truly been lost. There was no talk about cancer, or marriages, or near death experiences. It was just the two of us, best friends like we'd always been before.

**Early update day :) Sorry if the ending is rushed, I have to get to work! I hope you that even though the first half was different that you all still enjoyed reading it. I really had fun writing it. Thanks for the reviews. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	16. Chapter 16

Alex – December 16th 7:22 AM

I wake up abruptly, thrown off by the way the light was coming in through the hospital window. I glance to the clock on the wall, panicking when I see how late I was for work. I jump up, shifting Izzie as carefully as possible, though she still stirs. I wouldn't have time for a shower, obviously, and instead just brush my teeth and pat my wayward hair down. I pull my shoes on quickly, knowing I needed to get down to the locker room quickly to change into my scrubs for the day.

I glance over at Izzie, finding her staring at me with a confused look on her face. "What?" I ask, pressing my hair down again thinking there must be something wrong with it.

"Don't you have off?" she questions, and then it all clicks. I hadn't set an alarm because I had nowhere to go this morning. I didn't have to go to work.

"Huh," I say, kicking my shoes off before getting back into the uncomfortable hospital bed. "I knew that."

"Uh-huh, sure thing," she mumbles as we both fall back to sleep.

11:31 AM

"You need to be on the plane at 4:30," I stress while on the phone with my younger sister. I knew how irresponsible my mom could be, and the last thing I needed was for the two of them to miss their flight because they couldn't make it out of the house in time. Actually, maybe that was exactly what I needed.

Izzie had sent me out of the hospital and back to our apartment to clean, insisting that I put away all of our junk still laying out and make the place more "homey." Whatever that means... I had tried my best, following her the directions and going to Target to pick up things like lamps and throw pillows. Only, I didn't exactly know what I should be getting or how to set it up, so I'd left the receipts in a pile on the dresser for anything she might want to return.

I angle one of the pillows on the couch like I'd seen her do so many times before. It didn't really look right though. Probably had something to do with the fact that our couch was blue and the pillow red. My options had been pretty limited. I flop down on to the couch, groaning. There must have been an easier task she could have given me.

The one thing I had managed to do successfully was make up the couch bed, as well as buy new dishes like she'd asked of me. That was a bit easier, though I had a hard time believing how much sheets could cost. Izzie had specified some specific thread count, insisting the other kind weren't any good. I wanted to call bull considering I'd bought the cheapest sheets I'd could find and they had lasted me well over two years. I guess she knew more about those things than I did though, which is why I didn't bother questioning it.

"I know, I know," Amber responds in an agitated tone. I still couldn't imagine the idea of her being sixteen, all grown up and exposed to the world. Or worse, our mother. "You've said it like, ten times."

"Does mom know?" I ask, knowing it made little to no difference if she did or not. I bend down, picking up the box some of our Christmas decorations came in. I look at it, completely unsure what to do with the thing. Would Izzie want to keep it to put things away? If so was I supposed to store it somewhere until she needed it? With a shrug of my shoulders I open the hall closet and throw it in. No one uses hall closets anyway.

"That she's coming to visit you and your unheard of wife? She's not that mental, Alex." I roll my eyes at what I assumed had been an intentional misunderstanding.

"What time the flight is," I respond with an agitated tone. What was I supposed to do with these two extra boxes of lights sitting out? Did she even have a purpose for them? Knowing her they were back up, or something useless like that. Why had I given her free reign on Christmas decorating again?

"I told her," she responds, which means probably not since it wasn't very often much stuck out in her mind anymore these days, or the old days either really. The only thing that mattered was dad. Where he was, what he was doing, if he was happy. He was the important one in the family and we were all their little shit slaves, not really necessary but putting us to work since we were there. Why was I doing this again? "She was excited about seeing you."

Was I excited to see her? Eh, not really. But she was my mom, and I loved her. I'd grown up caring for her, feeding her, clothing her, sometimes even bathing her. I had pretty much raised my mother for a few years there. I loved her, I'd been the one who would do those things for her the best I could in order to try and keep her alive. Because if dad came home and found her unbathed or the house uncleaned or the food uncooked, it was her ass on the line. I covered it, skipping school often to keep the house in the shape my dad wanted it. The days when mom couldn't get out of bed, those were the days I knew I'd be having her call me in sick. I was sick a lot.

"Is she taking her meds?" I go back to the generic question, it was safe and basic. "Because if she isn't just being some place new could throw her totally off." I remembered the time we had taken a family "vacation" to visit my aunt in Minnesota. Our father hadn't gone with us, staying behind to work (really more like drink, I was sure) but mom hadn't been there for more than an hour when she just started to lose it. That was when the first sign of the schizophrenia started to make itself known to me. She got angry, didn't even register we were her kids as she lashed out, screaming for everyone to stop even though no one was doing anything but staring at her in horror. I'd been ten at the time, Aaron seven, and Amber not even born yet.

"I can only patrol her so much, Alex," is her answer to me.

I want to respond with, "You're all she has there and you can't keep track of her pills?" but then I remember I wasn't much better. Didn't I walk away from her entirely? The only responsibility I supported them with was sending meds for her to take and helping with some money to keep that shit hole roof over their heads. Disability would probably be able to get them somewhere better, but my mom refused to submit an application.

"Well just make sure she brings them with her, okay?" I request, although I could just write a prescription and get some from the hospital if vitally necessary. The last thing I needed was to be labeled as the suspicious doctor who wrote prescriptions. Illegal drug use would look great on my resume.

"Okay, Mom," she answers with heavy sarcasm. "I gotta go."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," I try and say quickly before she hangs up. I was really starting to get nervous on how this would go.

1:01 PM

The food wobbles on the lunch tray as I try and balance it while walking through the hallway, my arm unsteady as I also carried two sodas in my hand. I'm about to walk into Izzie's room for lunch when I see George in there, having already brought her something to eat. I couldn't lie, I was jealous. Here was this guy who my wife had spent the last six months crying over, wishing he'd talk to her and spend time with her. And yeah, I got that they were best friends, but still it did something to a guy's ego to hear that for so long. Kind of like, I wasn't enough for her.

But he gave her something different than I did, and it made her happy so who was I to try and take it away? I'd suck it up and tolerate it so long as I was the one she came home to at night. I'd be the one with the matching wedding band on my finger. I'd be the one who could have a baby with her if we wanted. Not George. George got to talk gossip with her, and make matching friendship bracelets or something retarded like that. I was lucky she had George around again, meant less gossip listening and friendship bracelet making for me.

I remind myself of that as I sigh and walk away from her room, still trying to balance the tray as I go. I'd go chill in the cafeteria for a while and, whenever her and George were done, I'd go in and we would have lunch together. This whole, not working thing, wasn't as wonderful as people made it out to be. Especially when I could be seeing my wife just as much while working. She was back in the freaking hospital after all. I felt like Yang, having a desire to get myself into surgery and all that. It wasn't a good feeling to have.

I've made it maybe three steps away from her door when I hear, "Alex!" coming from her room. I turn to see her brilliant smile, obviously jovial about something. I can't help but reciprocate, turning back around with my tray of food and walking in. "Mm, lunch," she says, sitting up straighter as I set the food down. O'Malley was in my seat at the foot of her bed, preventing me from sitting there. I take a breath and just resign myself to the chair next to her.

Now that the meds had started to kick in and she'd gotten some rest, she had improved in almost every facet. Her energy was up, her appetite had greatly increased, and she seemed much more Izzie as the day went on. Bailey had told us it would be a week before she would be able to go but, considering I was a doctor, I was hopeful we would get her out sooner. I hardly felt like spending a week going between my wife and my mother and sister. Actually, I just couldn't handle a week of my mother and sister on my own. I'd go pretty crazy.

"I'm gonna go," O'Malley says, standing and allowing me my seat. "I have a surgery to get to." Lucky bastard.

"Don't forget our deal," Izzie reminds him with a smile as she takes a bite of mashed potatoes. "I'm gonna kick your ass." I look between the two of them in confusion, entirely unsure as to what they were making bets on.

He laughs as he leaves, and I go to sit in his spot. "What was that all about?" I steal a bite of her corn bread, causing her to reach up and hit my arm before taking it back. She takes a bite and looks like she's in absolute heaven.

"Whatever they've put me on has made me the hungriest I've been in months," she comments happily. I wasn't sure how to respond. "Glad you're enjoying your drugs?" maybe, but probably not. "And George and I made a bet on if I could make a better scarf than him."

I raise an eyebrow and look at her dubiously. "That's something he wants to try and win?" I mean, if you were gay enough to feel okay doing it then go ahead, I guess.

"He just thinks he can beat me because he's been practicing all of his sutures so much."

"You know who practices their sutures?" I ask around a bite of chili. "Losers, the losers who only get to do sutures in the pit." There was no need to tell her I'd been the loser plenty of times over the past few weeks. I was the king of losers right now. It was pathetic, when I think about it, how much time my lame self had spent in the pit recently. Thank god for Dr. Robins, I guess. At least she gave a crap enough to try and get me to work for real.

"Be nice," she critiques, pointing her plastic fork in my direction. I wondered if she would bring up our silver ware while she was here. It wasn't too long ago she'd been about ready to stop eating because she couldn't stand the plastic kind so much. "Can we go for a walk after lunch?"

"Yeah," I say with a shrug. "You're riding though," I demand of her. I wasn't about to let her try and walk through the hospital because she'd been doped up on something enough to feel deceitfully better.

"I'll walk," she insists. "But, when I get tired I'm sure we can manage to find a wheelchair somewhere in the hospital," she finishes with an eye roll. She knew me well enough to assume I'd let her go traipsing all over the place without some sort of plan to rest.

"Remember what Bailey said," I point out. "No more faking." She holds up her hands in mock surrender. "Didn't you just eat?" I ask as I look over at the windowsill seat where an empty plate and pudding cup sat.

"George and I split some food, but I'm still starved." Whatever they were giving her here we needed some of at home. Then I could barely get a piece of chicken in here, now I couldn't stop her if I wanted to, I didn't think.

3:45 PM

She wraps two of he arms around one of mine, leaning against me as we walk. She had a smile still in place on her face from my joke earlier as we walk in silence. It was comfortable, slightly unnerving when her feet slipped out from under her a minute ago. I tried to get her into the chair after that, but she was stubborn, saying she didn't need it and insisted she keep going. I knew that I was lucky she was doing this well, and I had IV medications to thank for that. If I tried getting her home too soon, she'd just relapse with symptoms and end up back here. It'd be bad enough when they sent her home. I knew the energy would drain and her appetite disappear. Just from her body's adjustment from the superior drug to something weaker. It'd be an interesting few days.

"So," she starts, bumping lightly against me so I look over at her. "We should...talk." I fight my groan, knowing long ago that this was coming despite how I might want to just brush it away and forget about it. I'd take her talking for hours about it over her not talking to me at all, or touching me, or looking at me.

"We should," I agree, heaving a sigh.

"I'm still mad." I believe her, but she stills hangs off of me, resting her head on my shoulder as we walk. "Hi, Betty," she waves with a smile at an older lady being wheeled past us. She didn't look much like a cancer patient.

"Is there anyone here you're not friends with?" Knowing her the answer was probably no. She was single-handedly the most friendly person I knew.

"Nurse Renee," she answers with a curled nose. I laugh, knowing her distaste for the cranky nurse. I couldn't blame her. I hated when I had to try and tell her about my patients before leaving for the night. It didn't help that the later it got, the crankier she got.

"Alex!" I hear a familiar voice call out in excitement. I look up, my worst fears confirmed when I see her. Of all the people to find right now, of all the possibilities that they could be it had to be her.

"Hannah," I answer with far less enthusiasm. I look at Izzie, seeing how she wanted to respond. I was hoping for brief greetings and then walking away. I'd deal with damage control after the fact. It wasn't going to be pretty, I was sure about that much. She was frozen, staring at the girl and her IV pole as they stood before us. "What'd I tell you about walking around?" I ask, trying to maintain the basics of normalcy. A few more comments exchanged and then we'd walk away. Maybe I could use an excuse of Izzie needing meds. It wasn't true but, considering the circumstances, I thought it would be okay.

"My doctor sent me for a walk, thank you very much," she answers with a smug smile. "She said I'm tolerating my chemo extremely well. Hi Mrs. Karev." She turns to Izzie with a smile, looking just as alive and energetic as she had pre-chemo. I sometimes forgot how the drastic difference between other patient's reactions to the chemo drugs and Izzie's body's reaction to the aggressive IL-2. The only reason Hannah was even still in the hospital was due to her brain surgery.

I give Izzie a nudge, trying to get her to respond. I could see her mind turning as I look over at her. She didn't know if she should say anything or not, trying to consider if talking to the kid who had denied her was the right thing or not. I didn't know the answer to that necessarily, but it'd be bad right now to ignore her right now too. For one, it would just seem pretty odd. "Hi," she chokes out.

"Right um, I get to go home the day after tomorrow." She turns back to me, looking away from Izzie and her awkward smile.

"That's great," I tell her with an attempt at a smile of my own. "We have to get back to our room. Medicine time."

"Fun," she answers sarcastically. Izzie takes a breath finally as I give her a little shove to get her walking again. "I'll see you before I leave, right?"

"Um," I hesitate. I was glad in knowing I'd be good with kids for when I worked I pediatrics. I could do with them liking me a little less though. Or, in this case, a lot less. Of all people to be get attached it would have to be Hannah. Talk about crappy odds. "I'm not working so...I don't really know."

"Oh," she says kind of sadly. I really hoped she would go back to school in the next week or two and make a friend her own age. She was clearly lonely and more than a little bored. It didn't help with her parents splitting up and having just moved somewhere new. It was why I'd let her get as close as she had. The kid needed a friend, and it wasn't like I couldn't use someone who didn't know everything about my life to talk to for an hour. "Well, Merry Christmas then, right?"

"Yeah, Merry Christmas." I feel kind of bad as we walk away, but forget all about it as I feel Izzie finally breathe again once there's some distance.

"What am I supposed to say?" she asks, more to herself than to me, I think. "It's like, there's this big chance in front of me, but I can't say a word because she has no idea who I am!" Not to mention if she did who knows how she'd react to either Izzie or myself, but I wouldn't bring that up.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, just covering whatever I could with that. It must suck, just the whole thing in general. It must totally suck to give up your kid and then learn she's sick. Or what about having her not want to say a word to you? It was one crappy situation and it was one of those things that you just couldn't change a thing about.

"She really likes you, huh?" I shrug, trying to play it off as nothing. I mean, I really didn't think I needed to go into how we bonded over the stress in my life.

"I guess," I answer finally. She trips again and had my spare arm not gone out to help catch she probably would have fallen. "Chair time." I scan the hall, looking for a spare wheelchair. A nurse passes by us and I stop her. "Could we get a wheelchair," I ask, and considering she called me Dr. Karev I was pretty sure she knew who I was. "You were supposed to tell me when you got tired."

"I didn't really notice," Izzie replies as she lays against me. Her energy was draining all of a sudden. I take my hand and press it against her forehead, concerned of her fever spiking again. In all actuality the meds should be keeping it down, but it was something you could never be sure of. "Do you think she'd hate me?"

I sigh, smiling in thanks at the nurse as she wheels the chair over. Izzie sits down herself, resting her head against my hand as I begin to push it. "No," I reply simply.

"How do you know?" I think about that, because I knew this was the sort of thing I'd be prone to getting totally wrong.

"Because I've talked to her," I try to explain best I can, pausing to think some more. "And well, she talks a lot so I've gotten to know her pretty well, and she...she kind of reminds me of you." I didn't know if that was right or not. Maybe she wanted to hear that they were nothing alike, and that I hadn't actually spoken that much with her. I didn't know, it was hard to understand what she wanted sometimes. I just went with the truth though. Because the last time I'd tried to lie for her sake it hadn't turned out so well.

"Thanks, Alex," she whispers quietly, remaining silent in thought the rest of the time.

5:12 PM

"Do they like eating out? Do either of them have any allergies? Do they have any traditions for Christmas?" For the past hour Izzie had perked herself up by playing twenty-one questions in relation to my mom, sister, and their impending visit. It was like planning for Christmas all over again. She wanted to plan a dinner out on this day or going to the space needle in the afternoon on that day. She'd planned enough meals out to feed everyone for about a month, and her baking intentions were mildly out of control. I knew it was Izzie being nervous, so I generally just let her go on, but if she kept with this I'd have to point out the fact that they'd barely be here for more than a week.

"You know you can't be over doing it when you get out, right?" I ask, just trying to deter her some. Maybe this way I could at least cause her to compromise on her plans. Make chili one night and tacos the other, instead of both of them on the same night. Seemed pretty unnecessary.

"Well if I'm going to be stuck in here for the first few days then I'm going to have to over do it some." I roll my eyes, not in the mood to bicker anymore with her over the matter. I was just glad to see her return to her happier, bright and shiny self again. "Now, you're leaving tomorrow at what time to pick them up from the airport?"

"3:45," I answer in a groan, burying my face in the pillow in agitation. She'd asked me this question at least four times. It wasn't like she wouldn't be able to shoo me out the door herself when the time came.

"And when will you be back here?"

"Probably 5:30 because of traffic." It was like a freaking rehearsal. Going over my lines over and over again. I knew I could kind of be a screw up, but how bad did she really expect it to be? "And I'll call you when we get close," I add before she can try and prompt it out of me.

"Okay," she sighs, nodding in approval.

"They're going to love you," I say with a smile as I kiss her temple. She smiles at that, picking up my hand and twisting her fingers through mine. "Well, I hope so. But even if they don't, I wouldn't take it personally."

"Your mom..." she starts nervously, dropping off half way.

"Yes?"

"Do you think she'll be able to handle it? The whole cancer thing, I mean?" It was almost kind of funny, how, when she was the one who was really sick, she ended up being concerned for other people.

"My mom doesn't handle most things well, Iz." I shake my head, remembering the time I'd had to coax my mother out of her bedroom by promising our dad had come home, just to try and get her to eat dinner with us. "But we'll make it work, okay?"

"Okay, thanks," she answers, smiling again. I should go over with her how to act, what not to say, how not to move. Only, it'd been years since I had last seen her. She must have changed at least some. Did I really know anymore how to react to her? And I didn't want to spend Christmas walking on eggshells like I had as a kid. It wouldn't be perfect, I knew that much, but I expected for us to make it work the best we could, and making Izzie worry about every move she made would not help that.

"Now, do you think we should have ham or turkey for Christmas dinner?" Here we go again.

11:44 PM

It's late, the lights have gone off, the curtains drawn, and the noise level had decreased dramatically. It was a usual night in the hospital, far less eventful here on the regular floor as opposed to the ICU where monitors frequently went off in the middle of the night. It was quiet here, kind of unnerving in the silence. When she was in here for chemo there was at least the beeping of machines to keep sound in the room. Frankly they normally drove me crazy, but there was something about the constant, steady reminder of her heart beat that made the machine almost desirable.

She was out cold, arms circled around me as she laid her head on my chest. Her heavy breathing was the only noise I heard, but that combined with the warmth of her body pressed against mine had me more relaxed than I'd felt in days. I was tired, exhausted, and not from work or late night wake ups to deal with symptoms. My brain just wanted to shut down for a while. Stop thinking about fights and daughters and febrile seizures. I missed when things were just easier. I missed when it was Izzie and I, laying in bed at Meredith's just being us and not worrying about impending death or crying over being bald.

I loved Izzie no matter what she looked like. I was attracted to her from the first time I laid eyes on her way back when at our little banquet before the first day of work. She was tall, blonde, gorgeous figure, and some awesome boobs. I thought for sure I had everything worked out in the department of Izzie. Be an ass, get her to hate me with a passion and then turn that passion into hot, one night sex. Maybe a few other times in the break room if I was lucky. But then she went and screwed that all up.

It started with her being...nice to me. I wasn't an ass to her anymore, therefore killing the idea of hot hate sex. Then I started talking to her and I realized that I was somehow falling for her in this odd, I don't know what to do because I want more than sex from you, sort of way. So eventually, I asked her out. I went for it, took a leap and tried to do everything right on that first date. All of my dates before had been pretty clear cut. Go to dinner, talk charming, order wine, go home and have sex. Maybe go out a few more times if the sex was good and the company bearable. I didn't want that with Izzie though, so I took a different approach.

I thought if I kept my hands off of her, keeping all things physical and below the belt out of the way, that I could do it right. The whole, having a legitimate girlfriend deal. But I realized quickly, from her very angry reaction, that not kissing her had been like a slap in the face in her mind. She didn't get that she wasn't unattractive to me, but really attractive in the way that I wanted to try and keep her around for awhile, and I didn't know how to explain it. Hell, I still don't think I really do.

Then she wanted sex, and so did I, good god so did I. There's nothing sexier than a hot girl slamming you against the wall in a hallway as she starts taking off her clothes, almost like she couldn't even wait till the bedroom. But the whole time I was trying to...do it, I kept thinking how it would screw everything up and that all the crap we'd started building would fall to shit, because that's how my relationships worked. I couldn't tell her that though. For one, it sounded awfully girly, and two there was the whole not being able to explain it issue. I got frustrated and confused, so eventually I just had mindless, no feelings, sex.

Izzie, of course, had to go and catch me in the act. Which left me to feel like the biggest jerk as she moped around the hospital and either screamed or cried whenever I tried to talk to her. What a disaster. And I didn't know how to move on or get her to forgive me so...I didn't try. Then one day she's throwing me in a supply closet demanding I remove my pants, which she stills loves to do, and then it was like she was doing what I always did. Having mindless, emotionless sex.

And don't get me wrong, I loved it because it was good sex, but I wanted more. It was ridiculous, because when had I ever wanted more in my life, but I did. I tried in every way I knew to show her that, since I was still incapable of explaining anything. I brought her cupcakes, asked her out on dates, I even read a damn book on how to do it all. None of it worked though, because she'd fallen for the guy with a literal messed up heart. She sat at his bedside and played Scrabble, and ditched me for him. She dumped me and what I was trying really hard to make between us, for him. Then she pulls some crazy ass move with cutting an LVAD wire and I'm angry because I shouldn't be helping her be with some other guy. He dies, I wait, and wait. I eat her muffins and drape coats around her shoulders and pick her up out of the bed of some dead guy so she can cry about him to me.

I kiss her, she turns me down declaring it's too soon and she's not over him yet. I back off, not because I wanted to or that I wanted to increase my chances with her a few months from then, but because I knew she needed a friend and I was trying to be that. I never try to be the friend, that's not my role. Then of all people in the world for her to get with, it has to be George O'Malley, never even asking me to go out with her once, but somehow managing to fall in love with the married wuss. I hated to admit it, but just like her ditching me for Denny, it really freaking hurt.

So I found someone else. Only, she was crazy and messed up and confused. She had a husband and a baby and an identity disorder, and I should have never gone near her like I did. But this was like a relationship where I knew what to do. I could have sex, and then I could take care of her. I could make her eat and sit with her in the shower and do whatever she needed, and I was good at it. Izzie stepped in then, seeming to come out of nowhere now that her fling with O'Malley was over, and demanding I stop the only damn relationship I'd been half decent in. I resented her for it at the time, but I always knew I couldn't keep doing it. If not because it wasn't healthy for myself, then for the fact that Ava would have killed herself at some point or another had she not of been admitted.

Izzie was just...there after that. I was ashamed of the whole, crying on her shoulder deal that had gone down and was sure she'd gone and told everyone as soon as it was over. Alex Karev, the jerk faced loser would also be labeled a sissy now. But she didn't, and somehow, for once, I was in one place and she was in the same. I wasn't as emotionally stunted and she wasn't distracted by dying guys. We could be together. And even though it was all new and weird to me, together is exactly what we were, and she made me happier than anything else in the world.

I didn't care that she seemed to still have some feelings for Denny, writing it off as guilt since she'd started seeing someone else for real for the first time since his death. She'd get over it, I'd tell myself all the time. I didn't care that she was distant some days or all weird and avoiding on others. I had her, she was mine, and she was willing to keep me around and I could love her and she wouldn't leave. It was the strangest and best feeling I could remember in my life. I hadn't felt anything like it before, and it changed me as a person. She changed me as a person. For the better. She changed how I looked at things, how I reacted to problems, and in the way I talked to people and patients. Not a lot of people could have done that. In fact, I'd take a guess that she was probably the only one who could've.

But those days ended too quickly. Our late night sex gone, our dinner dates over, and the basic security I had in our relationship totally ended. It sucked that she had cancer and didn't tell me about it, but I hardly had time to care about that as her diagnosis came to dawn on me. Death, that was the reasonable, probable outcome. When you hear stage four melanoma mestasis, you assume death. Maybe you'd get a year or two to live, especially with the invasive chemo and extensive surgeries but, hearing from Yang what was wrong with Izzie, all hope was just vanished from my mind. So much for the one person in my life who I could see a forever with. So long to the one person who got me and accepted me for all my faults. Farewell to the best thing that had ever happened to me.

It's like a punch in the gut, getting news like that. It takes the very breath out of you and leaves you too stunned to do anything. Then there's this dull ache left behind, where you function somehow, but know that it's not going to be okay. Maybe there's some slow internal bleed and eventually everything will come to a grinding halt. I don't know how I faced it, or why, but because we had somehow, somehow, we'd ended up coming out on the other side. Remission was a word used by our oncologist last week. Remission is not a word you expect to hear when it comes to stage four melanoma mestasis, even if it might still not be applied for another year, it could happen eventually.

I was grateful for every second I got with her, even when she was angry or sick or practically comatose. I'd take it over the alternative. I could face anything if it meant she was going to be okay. I could handle whatever crap came flying toward us if she was there with me. And I know I'll be holding on to thoughts like that when I go to pick my mother and sister up tomorrow.

**And we're back to the late updates! Thanks for the feedback last chapter guys. I'm glad you all really liked how things were finally, sort of resolved with George. He'll be around next chapter! (doesn't really fit into Alex's world so much. At least, not in a positive way.) Also, if there is anything you all wanted to see for the remainder of the story, places for them to go, conversations to be had, events to take place, let me know and maybe I can fit it in at some point of the oncoming chapters. I have plans, but not enough to carry decent length chapters all the way to the end with legitimate content and not just filler. Thanks for any input you have. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	17. Chapter 17

Alex – December 17th 9:32 AM

"Ready for today?" Alex asks as I stir awake, still half asleep in his arms. I was so warm right now, between Alex, the blankets, and the hospital's general mildly higher temperature I could see why. I take a minute as I try and recall what today was, used to that question applying to chemo or surgeries. I'm pleased when I remember it has nothing to do with cancer treatment, but Alex's family for a visit. My smile fades when I feel that familiar block sink in my stomach. I still felt nervous, and very unsure.

"I think you should tell them," I blurt out, becoming more alert the longer I thought about it. "About the cancer, I mean," I clarify though I was sure he understood perfectly well before. The silence had just been a bit unnerving. "It just seems...stupid to pull a surprise like that on them. Especially with me in the hospital." It'd been one thing when I had been up and around at the apartment. I could almost look healthy a couple of weeks after chemo sometimes, aside from my lack of hair, but having them come in to some woman in a hospital bed looking like she's awaiting on her train ride to death? It might not be the best presentation.

"Stop worrying," he instructs, kissing the top of my head. "We could both spend hours trying to prep over every little detail to keep my mother calmer or my sister happy, but I'm not going to stress over it." I look up at him, confused. Did he not get that cancer wasn't the same kind of left out detail as getting a new place, or buying a puppy. It generally wasn't something people handled well and, considering what he had told me about his mother and family, I really didn't think we should be doing that to her. Would she even be able to handle it?

"But, Alex-"

"Not worrying," he cuts in, putting a finger to my lips. "It's wasted effort, Iz," he explains as I stare at him with confused eyes. "Something will probably throw her off and make her upset and cause an episode at some point. At home five years ago she couldn't even make it a week without an episode, I hardly think here will be any different. Now it can be ten minutes in because she realizes you have cancer or three days in when she finds we're out of milk. I'm not going to spend the next nine days stressing about it. I did that every day as a kid, and things never got better. So why bother?"

"Okay," I answer quietly, reaching up and kissing him. "I'm sorry." I felt bad for making him have to go through all of that. He would know her better than I did, obviously. I should have just accepted it from the beginning and left it alone. I was getting what he was saying but still...I had to wonder if he wasn't omitting that information for the sake of something else.

"Don't worry about it," he answers as he begins running trails along my arm with his fingertips. "What you should worry about is getting out of this damn hospital and back to our decent bed." He dramatically stresses his back to prove his point. I roll my eyes in response.

"I'll get right on that," I answer sarcastically and he laughs. "And you work on getting rid of the morning breath," I say with a wrinkled nose, playfully pushing him away from me. I laugh as he pulls me closer, kissing me right on the lips for as long as he can hold me there.

10:46 AM

"George!" I smile happily as he walks in, hands stuffed in his coat pockets as he comes over to greet me.

"Hey, Izzie," he says and leans in to give me a hug. This was my George. I didn't know where he'd been or how he got back, but this was my George and I wasn't going to be letting him go away like that on me again. Alex gets up to leave, probably with some excuse to go to the cafeteria or whatever but George turns to look at him saying, "I'm not staying for long. Just stopped in to say hi." That was Alex's cue to sit back down, which he does. I roll my eyes, annoyed with their childlike behavior. Mostly Alex's considering George was the one with the gruesome black eye.

"Thanks, George," I answer with a smile, content to just have him back in my life, even it was just for quick stops to say hi. It sure beat awkward conversations and avoided glances. "Got anything exciting planned for today?"

"Oh, you know," he answers vaguely, which I'm sure means no. "I'm just in peds today, no big deal." quirk an eyebrow at him, mildly suspicious of his odd answer but not really at the same time. Maybe some mild awkwardness should still be expected from time to time right now. That's all it was.

"Well, I hope you get the chance for a good surgery," I say, wishing I myself could scrub in on a good surgery. Maybe they'd let me go to the gallery sometime if I minded my limitations better. That would make my days more eventful. Though, hopefully, I would not be in here for more than a couple more days. There was far too much going on for that.

"Thanks, I'll stop by later," he promises as he goes. I turn to glare at Alex, annoyed with his need to exit the room every time George walked in. That just wouldn't work. We were married, with an apartment. Was Alex supposed to go grocery shopping every time George came over to watch a movie? Was he supposed to go out drinking while George and I played Scrabble? He needed to get over his pettiness and act like an adult.

"I'll tell them," he says, distracting me from my angry thoughts. I wondered if that was his goal, to deter me from my impending lecture, but his words interested me too much to bother trying to figure it out.

"You do mean tell your family about the cancer, right?" I think back to this morning's conversation. He had clearly made up his mind then. Why the change of plans?

"If it'll make things easier on you, then yeah, I'll tell them." I smile at him, happy that he was willing to do such a thing. Aw, damn it, his plan had totally worked. Any angry thoughts of mine had faded. "You were right, it'll probably be easier anyhow."

Now I know he's trying to distract me. I'd just been deemed right by him. Alex didn't usually give up so easily, or if he did, he didn't go admitting someone else was right as he does it. "Well, thank you," I answer, kissing him deeply. If all else failed, at least I'd still have him.

11:29 AM

"Good morning, Dr. Stevens." Derek Shepherd walks into my room, a wide smile on his face as he comes and sits down next to my bed. "How are you feeling?" I'm fairly certain he's asking for the sake of obtaining politeness.

"Pretty good," I answer. I actually had a stomach that was doing cartwheels but considering that it was not health related, I was pretty certain that I was safe. "How are...you?" This was awkward. Why were we doing this.

"Good, good," he answers with a charming smile. "I'm uh, actually here to check your incision and, hopefully, remove the staples today." Okay, now it made more sense. Still, there were many other people in this hospital who could do this job just as well and get paid a lot less to do it. So either Meredith was advocating for some really good care or Derek Shepherd had an alternative motive. I had a feeling it was probably the second one, which was good. It diverted my attention, now making me focus on not letting anything slip. Not that I had many big dark secrets, but still...it was fun to pretend.

"Oh, okay," I answer, removing my scarf from my head so he could see. He was allowed to see me bald. He was the doctor after all. "Does it look okay?" I ask, realizing that I had never really looked to see myself, considering it was on top of my head and all. I was sure Alex had checked it though. Probably at night when I didn't have anything covering it.

"It's healing perfectly," he answers as he pulls on a pair of gloves and takes an antiseptic pad. "So, when are you going home."

Don't get me wrong, I like Derek. He was a good attending, Meredith's boyfriend, had great hair, and had gotten my twenty dollars back from Alex so I could buy pizza once. Oh, and he had kind of saved my life. He was a cool dude, but it wasn't very often that we...talked. "Not really sure yet." He pulls out the stapler remover, now cleaning it with a new wipe. Sometimes I wondered how much the hospital paid for all of our disposable products. I mean, gloves and masks alone...It was no wonder Bailey needed so much money to open the clinic.

"Ah, well, hopefully before Christmas." I brace myself for the odd pulling sensation as he starts on my first staple. He was gentle with the procedure, almost making it tickle as he pulled them out.

"Definitely before Christmas," I say, wanting to shake my head at the thought but knowing better considering what Derek was trying to do and all. "I refuse to spend Christmas in here."

"That's funny, Meredith is dying to work Christmas." He moves on to the second one, this one was a little more stubborn. It didn't hurt, but the removal made my skin crawl as I felt the sensation of something being pulled from my head.

"Meredith is far more dark and twisty than I," I point out. "Of course she wants to work Christmas."

"So what do you want?" he asks, and I know immediately when he does that this was what he had been building to. Lord knows why. I didn't really think he should feel compelled to get me a gift...especially if it meant I needed to get him one too.

"Did Meredith put you up to this?" Maybe her whole, "I know exactly what I'm getting everyone," act in the store had just been pretend. She probably didn't have a clue what to get anyone. "Because really, I think you guys are covered in the gift department with Alex and I for the next twenty years or so." I was still in awe when I walked into our apartment some days. Meredith herself didn't have that nice of furniture! Granted, the were building some crazy ass house on a few acres of land that overlooked Seattle, but still, it was a lot.

"Can't I just ask a question, Dr. Stevens?" he reciprocates as he carries on with his work. I'm glad he doesn't try and make eye contact while we converse. I'd rather he focus on the extraction of sharp objects from my head.

"I guess," I respond. "You have to tell me first though." There, I could make conditions, couldn't I? Isn't that the sort of thing someone who had a big secret would do? I really was getting bored these days.

"Fair enough. I wanted to take a cruise with Meredith. Go some place nice like the Bahamas or Aruba." Wow, sounded fancy. I wondered if Meredith could enjoy a cruise.

"That sounds more like a gift for Meredith than to yourself," I point out. It wasn't a gift if he was the one planning it, paying for it, and taking her on it. On the positive side, he'd just made himself about ten times more desirable than he already was to women. Too bad he was post-it married.

"Her agreeing to go and trying to have a good time would be the part of the gift that was mine," he explains, pulling out the last one. He begins wiping the area and preparing a bandage.

"Simple enough," I respond, thinking that now he was done the question could be altogether avoided. That was pretty impressive, right? On the spy movies they always avoided the question.

"And you, Dr. Stevens?" Damn it, so much for that.

"Honestly?" I ask as I try and think it over. It was hard to figure it out. What did I want? "I'm kind of just...happy. I don't want anything, I guess." I answer with a shrug, almost surprised at myself, but also at how very true it was. I didn't need a lot.

"Nothing?" He sounds incredulous in his question. Maybe he was one of those men who believed every time a woman said she didn't want a gift it meant she wanted something extra special.

"Think about it," I say, trying to paint my own picture as I talk. "I have a new apartment that was fully furnished by my friends, a mother who I'm on speaking terms with well enough to ask for her to send me ornaments, a big fake ring on my finger, and I get to meet my in-laws for the first time later today. I've gotten a positive diagnosis, made up with George, and, at the end of the day, no matter what, I have Alex. Which, I know to a lot of people doesn't sound all that special, but to me it's the world. So, yes Derek, I don't want anything. I already have it all." I smile at the thought, put in a good mood with my own words and reflections. I'm sure it sounded extra corny to a man, and Derek was probably ready to walk away and vomit right about now, but it was true.

"That's a very nice outlook, Izzie," he replies, trying out the use of my first name like I had done with him as he presses the bandage to the top of my head. "No?" he asks, referring to the awkward way it sounded.

"You're Dr. Shepherd and I'll be Dr. Stevens," I confirm. First name basis between Derek and I just wasn't going to work I didn't think.

"Well then, Dr. Stevens, I think we're all done here," he stands with a smile, taking his staple remover with him and picking up all the trash to dump in the bin by the door.

"Ooh, but tell Mer if she really wants to get me something that I'd love her help with cooking while Alex's family is here," I say with a smile. That'd be the perfect gift for Christmas. I didn't know if I really had it in me to cook as much as I'd been telling Alex I would. I hardly felt like relying on Joe's every night for a meal though. What kind of wife would I look like then.

"Sure thing," he says with a smile as he leaves, shutting the door behind him. I re-secure my scarf and stare back up at the ceiling, just waiting for my phone to ring.

3:55 PM

"Hey, Izzie," George says as he comes and sits down in my empty room. I can't help but question for a second if Alex had planned this. Did they have some sort of schedule between the two of them or something? "How you doing?"

"Bored," I answer. I sick of TV, tired of crossword puzzles, and entirely unable to sleep. "I need out of here. As in yesterday."

"You can't," he points out like I wasn't already aware. "Your fever would spike again your fluids would drop-"

"George," I cut him off with an eyebrow raise. He nods and stops. "So what's with you and Alex?" I'm kind of afraid of what the answer will be, but know that I need to figure it out so I could deal with it. Plus, anything was better than sitting here contemplating my in-laws and how they would be here in a very short amount of time.

"What?" he asks, his confused Bambi look on his face.

"Does he bully you?" I ask, feeling like a fifth grade teacher. "Do you want me to talk to him? Did he try and keep you from talking to me?" The worst case scenarios come flying through my mind. I feel guilty for it, terribly so, because I knew Alex and he wasn't a bad person at all. He was good in so many ways that he and others failed to see. He had a great heart, and I'm not talking about the fit diet and working out five times a week sort of heart. But with George...sometimes with George Alex's heart got a little...misplaced.

"Alex? No, well I mean, aside from the hitting thing," George points his eye out to me, as though I hadn't noticed it before. It was only glaringly obvious after all. "Actually, he um, he was the one who got me to come and talk to you."

All train of thought stops then as I look up in utter surprise. Alex hated George. Alex was jealous of George. Alex probably wouldn't mind if George got run over by a bus. But he had made him reconcile with me? I wasn't sure if I totally got it. "Wait, are you sure you know what you're talking about?"

He kind of laughs, "I know it's weird, right?" I give him a look in response that says "of course." "But yeah, he would always refuse to update me on you, trying to get me to do it myself, and he was pretty good at guilt tripping too."

I had to admit, even if it might be a little awful, I was completely in awe of my husband right now. Not only had he been kind enough to not kill my best friend who he hated, he was also trying to get us to reconcile, despite what that meant for him. This was the Alex I loved and married, because he had a heart like that at the end of the day. And how many people can you say that about?

5:49 PM

The phone rings and I dart my hand out to grab it, nearly dropping the device in the process. "Hello?" I answer, probably slightly out of breath.

"Hey, Iz," Alex replies, he sounds kind of tired already. If this didn't end well I'd feel guilty for years over effectively ruining our first Christmas together. Good intentions or not aside, I just wanted a Christmas. A real sort of, tree in the window, snow on the ground, Hallmark card, Christmas deal. It might be stupid, and Alex surely didn't have those ideals himself, but it was something I needed almost, as our first year as a married couple, a family really, it was something I needed. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Aside from the stomach ache and accelerated heart rate that was. Who knew meeting in-laws was so nerve wracking.

"Well we're about five minutes from the hospital," he answers and I exhale, trying to calm myself. Nothing that bad can happen, I try to remind my brain, and get it to calm down. I've lived through brain surgery, the death of someone I loved, temporarily losing my best friend, a near death experience, and a deadly cancer. I could handle this. I think.

"Okay, well I don't think I'm going anywhere," I say with a terribly nervous laugh. Everything would be okay.

"Do you need me to bring you some diazepam?" he offers and I laugh. Valium did sound pretty helpful right about now. I wondered if either of the other two women in the car even knew what that meant. Probably not.

"Maybe, could you use some perphenazine and amitriptyline?"

"At this rate?" he answers in a dry tone. "We're all going to need some."

"Thanks for the positive encouragement," I mutter before we say goodbye and hang up. I reach up and take off my scarf, retying it and making sure that it's even on my head. I take a deep breath as I sit myself up farther in my bed. Thinking of an even better idea I get up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and going to our hospital bag. I pull out my makeup pouch. If there was ever a time I needed to look like I had a little more life in me, now would be it.

I go to the bathroom, flipping on the switch and standing in front of the mirror. Thankfully I wasn't going to end up having any mental breakdowns today from my appearance. I start with the foundation, blending it with my sickly pale skin tone to add some normalcy to my face. I take the blush, swiping some across my cheeks to add a natural pink tint to them. My eyes stay bare, I still had no idea what I could with them that wouldn't look completely ridiculous. My mother had sent me fake eyelashes shortly after I explained to her on the phone that, unlike Samantha on Sex and the City, you lost all of your hair, not just what was on top of your head. In fact, I might even still have some peachy fuzz on there had I not decided to just shave it all off.

I felt they'd look stupid though, like I was trying too hard to obtain something I didn't have. If I was going to put on fake eyelashes then I'd have to get a wig, and if I got a wig then I'd feel inclined to begin drawing eyebrows on my face. It wasn't worth the effort. Especially considering there were many days when no one but Alex and doctors saw me. Today was just...a special circumstance.

I return to our bag, now deciding I wanted to get dressed as well. Damn Alex hadn't packed anything nicer than jeans when he went home yesterday. I sigh, settling for my nicest pair of jeans, though they didn't quite fit as nice as they used to, and my pink scoop neck sweater. I couldn't really blame him for not packing my jewelery, aside from my wedding ring I hadn't worn anything in months. I quit after the first time I was unable to do the clasp from my hands shaking so much. I decided it was more embarrassing having to ask for help every time I wanted to take something on and off than the accessory was worth.

I change quickly, happy to pull on a bra for the first time in a few days. I felt good, awake, fresh, and well prepared. If only my stomach would stop doing that flippy thing. I don't get back in bed, instead sitting in Alex's recliner, grabbing a magazine he'd brought me and halfheartedly flipping through it.

There's a knock at the door a second later and I look up immediately, finding Alex standing in the doorway, looking worn already. "They're in the cafeteria," he says, smiling at me. "And you look extra hot right now." He leans down to kiss me and I respond eagerly. "Forget them," he says as his hands grab my face, holding me to him as we kiss. I pull away, shooting him a reprimanding look.

"Really, Alex?" I ask, sounding annoyed but secretly kind of pleased. I knew from now on I'd put more effort when I got up in the mornings as long as I felt okay. I mean, if it was eliciting reactions like that... "Do they know?" I ask reaching back to fix my scarf. It felt off center from Alex's minor assault.

"Yeah, I explained it to them the best I could." I give him an odd look, not fully understanding.

"You're a doctor," I point out as I stand taking Alex's hand as we begin to walk toward the elevators. "You live a life of explaining diagnoses to people."

"To people," he reiterates. "Not to my mom. The two are totally different." I nod, accepting the answer. "I can't believe how grown up Amber is," he tells me, pressing the button to call an elevator. "Her hair's all...dyed and mutilated and she's tall. Probably 5'8" even." I smile, imagining the concept of a younger Alex and his baby sister. I bet he'd been a good big brother. Only he'd been forced to leave her after the social workers took them away and split them up. I wondered if he had blamed himself for that back then too.

"And your mom?" I ask, stepping into the now empty elevator with him. I lean my head comfortably against his shoulder as we ride. "Is she doing okay?"

"She's worse than I thought," he says with a sigh. "She's depressed, so even if she isn't having a schizo episode, she's still miserable. She wasn't quite this bad when I was a kid." The doors open and I suck in a breath, trying once again to calm my nerves. It wasn't working very well as we walk closer to the cafeteria. I was a nice person; happy and kind and sweet, I was the kind of person parents loved. All of my friend's parents wanted me around more, using me as an example to their kids. All of my boyfriend's parents had insisted I was a good influence on them. Well, most of them at least.

Alex holds the door open for me, gesturing me in, I grip back on to his hand, squeezing it tightly. I could only imagine how sweaty it must be from my nerves. I glance around the room, not entirely sure of what their faces looked like, but searching anyway. Alex begins to lead me, obviously having found them somewhere. "Mom, Amber," he says as we stop in front of the table. I could see why Alex felt Amber had grown up so much, as she looked extremely...adult for sixteen. At least, her figure did. I could from her sitting that she was pretty tall, at least a couple good inches on her mother, probably around the same height as me, and her breasts were...well developed. I was sure I stared for a couple of seconds, contemplating on if they were real or not. Her hair was this reddish brown color, obviously not her real shade as her roots were growing back in a different shade entirely. It was cropped just below her shoulders and then layered. Well, actually it looked a bit like a child had done the cutting, leaving the ends sloppy. I knew it wasn't an uncommon thing these days, but I still found it weird. Maybe it was out of jealousy from my own personal lack of hair.

Next I look over to his mom, who looked sickly like myself. She was a sallow woman, not much to her at all. I was sure she probably couldn't eat well, the depression making her appetite vanish, and I didn't care what people said, if you had no appetite it was near impossible to eat. Her eyes certainly fit what I knew so far about her, they looked tired, weary, and I couldn't help but notice that she and Alex shared a nose, almost identical.

"Hi," I say cheerily, reaching out a hand in greeting. "It's really nice to meet both of you," I say as I shake Amber's hand, and allowing Alex to pull me back before I can go to his mother. Hand shaking wasn't okay. Noted. I feel like I'm being evaluated as his sister just kind of stares at me, his mother doesn't really show much interest. I take a deep breath, not allowing it to bother me.

"Okay," Alex says. "Let's sit." He must be talking to me since his mom and sister were already seated in the booth. I slide in first and Alex comes in next to me. I reach out to grab his hand again. Why weren't they saying anything?

"So are you dying or what?" his sister finally asks, quirking her head to the side as she stared at me. "Alex couldn't seem to give me a straight answer...you look pretty sick."

Thank god I put on makeup. Imagine what she would think of me on a bad day. I look to Alex and know immediately I need to jump in before he did something he would regret. "No," I answer simply. "I have no intention of dying." It was true. I had gotten a good diagnosis, things were looking up, and just because nearly the same thing had happened to Henry did not mean it was going to happen to me. I was going to live. That was why I had fought so hard. I was going to live.

His mom really looks at me for the first time and laughs, and I mean literally. Talk about a confidence booster. "My son married you?" she asks, causing me to blush. I wasn't acceptable with my cancer like body. If only they'd seen me before, then maybe I would fit. "Didn't know he would ever make that good of a decision." I look back up in surprise. Wait, maybe she wasn't laughing at the fact that he'd been stupid when choosing me, but that he had actually made the right choice. I wasn't so sure if I got it. "This is real, right?" she asks, trying to decipher I was sure. I had seen the schizophrenic before. They lost the ability to determine for themselves what was real and made up a lot of the time. In an episode it wasn't very often that they would listen to reason as you told them what was and wasn't real though.

"Alex is very smart," I praise, looking over at him and smiling. He didn't look like he'd make it the rest of the night. I was beginning to think we should have gotten them a hotel to rent.

"He always was," his mother says with a kind smile as she reaches across the table and places one of her hands on top of his. "Such a good boy," she mutters, almost to herself.

"So, Amber, how are your grades?" Alex intervenes, sliding his hand slowly away from his mom's touch. I felt a pang of guilt as I remember I'd been the one to put him here, and now I was making him deal with it himself until I finally managed to get out of the hospital.

She opens her mouth but then freezes, almost like she was going to say something only to have second thoughts about it. "Good," she answers instead. "One B and the rest A's."

"Wow," Alex comments, sounding legitimately impressed as he smiles at her. "What classes do you like best?"

Her face lights up as she begins to talk, now far less cynical. "Math," she answers quickly. "I love math and geometry and algebraic equations. I'm taking AP classes for all of my maths."

"All?" I interrupt, unsure as to how many one could take.

"I'm doing some as extra curricular," she explains with a shrug. I'm pretty impressed. When I was in high school I just found the easiest classes to take and get an A. Home Ec had been my strong point. I never got an easier A in my life. Baking? Knitting? I mean, really, how much simple could it get for me.

"That's impressive," I answer, trying to make nice with her. I remembered our phone conversation from a couple of weeks ago. Her tone consistently irritated as we talked and she questioned everything I said. She sends me a glare to my comment now, able to dislike me with her eyes as well as her voice now that we weren't just over the phone. This was going to be one hell of a week.

9:11 PM

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Alex asks as he fluffs up one of my pillows for the first time. I don't know if he expected me to change my mind and demand he stay here for the night or what, because that had been about the fifth time he asked. I mean true, we didn't spend a ton of nights apart, but still...

"I'm good as long as you put out the throw pillows and coasters like I asked." I cringe highly expecting some sort of excuse to come from him about how he forgot or got caught up in something else. Surprisingly, he answers me differently.

"You bet," he says, leaning in to kiss my chapped lips.

"Bring me over some lotion tomorrow," I say, my dry skin beginning to irritate me. Chapped lips was an easier fix, I thought as Alex pulled out his handy lip balm and applied it for me. "And call me if you need anything tonight."

"Luck," he answers plainly. I smile at him, feeling apologetic but with nothing I could do about it.

"It'll be okay," I try and reassure him. Dinner hadn't gone too badly. I mean, Amber hated me, but it still went a lot worse in my head in the times I'd considered it than it had actually panned out. Which, made me pretty happy.

"Mhm, sure thing," he answers dubiously as he kisses the top of my head. "Have a good night, call me if you can't sleep."

I smile as he leaves, waving goodbye as he goes. It was going to be a long night. For the both of us.

**I'm sorry! I know I'm extra late right now, but in my defense I did not have a spare minute until about two this morning. Also, the chapter is probably a little on the rushed side, but I tried my best to at least keep it coherent. Thanks so much to everyone who gave me feedback and tips last chapter! I can't say anything really added to my outline, but it's good to know you guys will enjoy what's coming. Also, we have reached the 100,000 word mark! I really do hope you guys are aware and appreciate how utterly insane I am. Only one more week until Christmas. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	18. Chapter 18

Alex – December 18th 7:00 AM

I groan as my alarm begins to go off, regretting the decision I had made last night to set it in the first place. What had I been thinking? I attempt to reach over and find Izzie to pull her into me, only to find the spot empty. For a spare second I wonder if she's already gotten up, when it occurs to me that she was in the hospital and I was home, with my mother and sister. Hence the alarm setting being done the night before.

I don't bother showering as I pull on my pants from yesterday and grab a shirt from the closet. I didn't think what I wore would matter all that much. I comb through my hair, brush my teeth and pull on a pair of socks. Picking up my shoes so that I didn't wake anyone, I begin to tiptoe out of my room, feeling legitimately ridiculous as I go. I peek over at the couch as I go by, taking in my sleeping mother, who snore a bit like a drunken sailor, and finding the space for my sister void.

I swear to god if she'd left this house... "Alex," I hear behind me and turn, finding her standing in the kitchen, one of Izzie's many cookies in hand. I look at her questioningly. Why the hell would anyone get up voluntarily at seven in the morning was beyond me. "Sneaking away already?"

I ignore the sneer in her voice as I push her all the way into the kitchen, trying to keep from waking Mom. "How long have you been up?" I ask, my defenses wearing thin in a kitchen full of baked goods. Screw waiting to eat with Izzie, I think as I grab one of the blueberry muffins she had made. Even if she had no other good qualities, her baking skills alone would be enough to redeem her.

"An hour, maybe two." She shrugs as she grabs another one of the cookies, practically inhaling it. Either she was starved or was a stress eater. "Mom snores loud enough to wake the dead."

I smile in response, because it was just about true. I mean, if you have to raise your voice a certain amount while someone snores, you know it's pretty loud. "I'm going to the hospital to see Izzie. Want to come?" I had to be honest, I wasn't entirely thrilled to invite my sister, which I know is awful, but so far she'd been fairly unpleasant. Last night the whole drive home she argued with Mom over how she never cooked or clean, and I didn't care how true it might be, the last thing you should be doing to a schizo is yelling at them over what they don't do. I cut her off before she could force Mom into an episode. By the time we'd gotten to the apartment she only had negative things to say, asking how Izzie and I could afford nice furniture and yet hadn't been able to pay to put them in a hotel.

I couldn't help but want to bite her head off as she kept up with her ignorant comments and complaining tone. It was enough to drive anyone crazy. It also kind of bothered me how much she reminded me of myself just a few years ago. Wasn't I that dick with something negative to say to anyone? Hadn't I been the guy who didn't care enough to double check anything? Guess ignorance ran in the family. It didn't help with how nasty she'd been to Izzie. I couldn't help the anger that flared in me from her blatant rude attitude toward my wife. She'd spent all day yesterday sitting around worrying over making them like her, doing her makeup to make herself prettier even. A simple smile from my sister would have been nice, all things considered. But still, it was going to help matters if I just started shutting Amber out until the day she left.

"I think I'll just hang out here," she answers. "We can hardly have Mom waking up some place new with no one around." I accepted that, knowing how badly that could end from previous first hand experience. I'd had enough knives with blood on them in my lifetime. Although, with the way she was sleeping I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't wake up for another several hours.

"How long does she usually sleep for?" There were many times as a kid where I would come home from school, see nothing different and then go to her room to say hi, only to find she wasn't awake. I used to wonder a lot if I went over there if I would even find her breathing.

"Actually sleep or just lay around?" she asks validly. "Because she'll sleep until around ten. Then she'll slum around the house until about nine, when she goes to bed for the night."

Sighing, I shake my head to myself. Irritation flares up, angry at my mother for the briefest of seconds before I calm enough to remind myself that it's not her fault. She can't control it. I can't blame her. It was my mantra as soon as I'd learned that she wasn't just lazy and sad, and was old enough to understand that she was honest to goodness sick. It was hard, because unlike Izzie, she doesn't look sick, not really. Her hair hasn't fallen out and her skin isn't practically translucent; you won't find wires sticking out or a central line in place. But she was, she was sick in the sort of way that didn't make as much sense to me, even if I was a doctor. Maybe if I'd been a psychologist.

"Well you can stay here if you want. Do you want me to stay with you?" It seemed kind of dumb, to invite them to come only to ditch them to go visit my wife. In all fairness to myself, I had gotten up this early with the intention of leaving far before either of them got up.

"Nope, I want to go sleep in your bed where no one is snoring in my ear," she responds as she brushes the cookie crumbs off of her hands. She opens the fridge, pulling out a carton of milk.

"I wouldn't drink that," I say since I couldn't remember buying it and hadn't used any since we'd moved in. That just couldn't be healthy. "And yeah, it all yours, but don't rag on me for the mess. That's where all the other crap around here ended up."

"So what's in the hall closet then?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"More crap," I say as I shrug my shoulders, consulting my watch to see how much time I'd wasted. "I gotta go." I grab another cookie, taking the mysterious milk carton with me to dump in the trash on the way out. I wasn't about to open it up and try and pour out what was sure to be a severely curdled substance down the drain. Maybe I hadn't prepared the house as well as I thought...

8:14 AM

The orange juice rattles in a way that makes me freeze as I attempt to carry mine and Izzie's breakfast up to her room. I stays standing and I breath a sigh of relief, not feeling like taking an orange juice bath just now, and continue to work toward her room. When I'd first walked in she had still been out cold, which provoked me to go down to the cafeteria and get her something to eat so she could sleep a little longer.

It was weird, not waking up next to her and kissing her good morning, or hearing her complaints of my morning breath. I knew I all reality most husbands didn't live at the hospitals with their wives while they were sick, going home to take care of their kids or to go to work or get a decent night's rest. I spent more time with Izzie in a day than some got to spend with their spouses for an entire week. But we were newlyweds, technically. Ones who had never gotten a honeymoon or hot, endless sex for days. We hadn't gone swimming on some foreign beach or gone on a cruise through the Bahama's. The closest thing we had was laying in a hospital bed every night or eating cafeteria food in her room. We had to take what we could get for the time being.

I find her awake and sitting up, talking to Bailey animatedly. She's smiling as she talks with her hands, obviously telling a story of some sort. Her smile grows wider as she looks over and sees me, with a tray of food in my hands. "I didn't expect to see you this morning," she says, surprised as I walk over and kiss her on the cheek. "What about your mom and sister?"

"They can fend for themselves for a couple of hours," I answer with a shrug, turning to Bailey. "You have any good news for us, Dr. Bailey?" I couldn't help but cross my fingers in hope that Izzie would be able to come home soon. It was tiring trying to think of how I could entertain two people I barely knew as well as try and come visit her. If she was here for much longer I'd hardly see her before Christmas, and I was hoping to get out of her what she wanted. I'd sent Shepherd to try and help me yesterday, only all I got back was how happy she was right now, literally answering that she wanted nothing more than Meredith's help with cooking. Maybe I'd buy her a new mixing bowl or cupcake pan. At this rate they'd certainly be worth the money.

"I do if you two can stop being idiots," she answers in her usual tone of reprimanding. She's filling out a chart and I peer over, trying to read for myself. Discharge papers.

"Thank god," I say as I step away. She sends me a glare and I quickly correct myself. "I mean, of course we'll make better decisions and stop lying." I say the last part for Izzie's sake. Because I swear if she didn't stop trying to cover things up...we'd be having another argument, only with me being mad at her for once.

"I expect you back here on the twentieth for a checkup," she instructs as she hands that clipboard over for Izzie to sign, then handing it to me to show she's left with someone.

"Promise," she answers with a smile. "Now go get a container with that food while I get dressed."

I nod following instructions as I leave the room, I stand beside the door out of her eyesight, waiting to talk to Dr. Bailey. She comes out of the room, eyes on her next pateint's chart. "Dr. Bailey."

She turns after hearing her name, facing me as I stood hidden against the wall. "Are you sure?" I ask. I wanted her home more than anyone else, but four nights ago had ranked one of the top five scariest moments of my life, and I had no desire to relive that feeling for as long as I could. If that meant solo-family mediating for a little longer, then I'd do it.

"Would I let her go if I wasn't?" she retaliates with a hand on her hip. She was attending and I was resident right now. "If you two fools can handle taking her temperature every twelve hours and not doing stupid things like going outside without a coat on or forgetting to take her meds, then she should be just fine. Considering she's going home with a doctor, I thought you could handle it pretty well."

I nod, grateful for the reassurance. "Thanks," I answer. She rolls her eyes and walks away, muttering something about interns as she goes. I feel like yelling after her to correct her, but decide against it.

I turn, heading back the way I'd come a few minutes earlier as I get on the elevator and press the button to go down to the first floor. The door opens and a patient is wheeled in. I smile awkwardly and then the three of us just stand there awkwardly. I hated this elevator. You'd think, considering this is a hospital with a lot of emergencies, that the elevators would move quickly to get people where they needed to go, but no, they took forever to get from floor to floor. We finally reach the first floor and I let them out first before following. I walk into the cafeteria and head directly for the to go containers, scooping the eggs from the plate to the styrofoam container.

"Hey." I turn, finding, who else, but Hannah standing there and greeting me with a smile. For once she's not in her hospital gown but dressed in regular clothes, jeans and a T-shirt, just like the rest of the population. It definitely gives her the appearance of someone a bit less fragile. She still went without anything covering her head though, something that I knew from Izzie talking took a lot of courage to do.

"Finally letting you out, huh?" I couldn't help but smile at how pleased she looks when she nods. Her mom comes over to us then, looking far more tired than the last time I'd seen her. "Mrs. Roberts," I say in greeting.

"Hi, Alex," she answers. "Tell your wife we really appreciated the cookies. They were delicious." I smile, not committing to actually saying a word to Izzie. I wondered how Hannah's mom would feel if she knew that the cookies had been made from her daughter's birth mother. I hated this whole, not just saying what's going and being honest with each other thing. I felt like I was lying still, and I really hated the idea of lying, never mind actually doing it.

"You better take care of yourself," I instruct Hannah. It was useless trying to pretend I hadn't grown a certain...attachment toward the girl. After all, she was no longer just the patient who was decent to talk to, but now Izzie's daughter as well. Even if she'd been the worst patient in the world I would still care what happened to her. I knew I'd be following her case one way or another over the next few months if she was staying here for treatment.

"Yeah yeah, you better not do anything stupid for a couple of days so you're not fighting with your wife for once." I roll my eyes, but really I couldn't blame her considering how many conversations we'd had about the fights Izzie and I had gotten into.

"No promises." I quickly finish transferring the food, wanting to get back to Izzie and try and make it home before it got too much later.

"Merry Christmas," she says like last time, her mom waving at me as the two of them walk away. I sigh, feeling tired after such a simple conversation.

8:56 AM

"She hates me," Izzie concludes in reference to Amber as we drive home. Once again she'd gone to the trouble of putting on makeup and getting dressed. It wasn't uncommon for her to do those things, but since we were just going back to the apartment, where she should probably stay for the rest of they day, I knew under normal circumstances she'd do no more than put her shoes and a hat on. I liked that she was comfortable with me, I just wished she could be a little more relaxed around other people too.

"She doesn't hate you," I try and argue, knowing it was futile. Amber had shown but dislike from the minute she began talking to Izzie. I didn't know why, or how to fix it, but she would have to get over herself somehow. We had eight days together, and I wasn't spending them in the middle of a warzone.

"So is her face just like that?" Izzie crosses her arms and huffs in frustration, sounding a bit like the melodramatic teenager we were discussing. "I didn't even do anything." It was almost a little funny, how she;d spent so much time worrying over them not liking her, only too have them not like her and get angry about it. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it coming.

"She's a teenager. Teenagers hate everyone." I try to comfort her, remind her of what kids those age were like. We had both certainly cared for enough patients like that. They made you want to pull your hair out with their attitudes half the time.

"Maybe it was when we talked on the phone..." she pauses to think, clearly not listening to me at all.

"Okay," I say as I pull the car into a parking spot outside of our building. "Remember what I was like when you first met me?" I sure did. I was this rude arrogant ass to everyone around me, couldn't be that easy to forget.

"Of course," she answers easily with a shrug, still not giving me her full attention. "I hated you, how could I not?"

"Love you too," I respond jokingly, finally getting her eyes to meet mine. "But just think of her like that. This total ass of a guy who you can't stand, but will one day eventually love so much that you give him free sexual favors at his demand."

She gives me an eye roll as I lean in and kiss her. "So you want me to give your sister lesbian sexual favors," she asks, raising her eyebrow as she tries to get a rise out of me.

"Oh shut up, you know what I mean." I get out of the car, going around to meet her as she steps out herself, taking the hospital bag from her hands. "Just give her a day or two. She has to come around eventually."

"Do you remember how long it took _you_ to fully come around?" I assume it's a rhetorical question as we begin to climb the stairs. I'm happy to see she handles them without a problem, climbing to the third floor without any of my help. Either the drugs from before had yet to worn off, or she was having a good day. I was hoping for the second, unsure of how Amber would react to her being sick all day. I could hardly handle any snide comments on the matter.

I unlock the apartment, opening the door and putting a finger to my lips to signal Izzie to be quiet. Sure enough, when we walk in, it appears everyone is still out cold, my mom still snoring away on the couch. She doesn't even stir as I shut the apartment door and we kick our shoes off. I make a mental note to go through her bags later, checking for whatever medications she might be on aside from the two I send her every month.

Izzie walks in, pausing as she stops and picks up the decorative pillow that had been thrown from the couch at some point, holding it up with a speculative look in her eye. She laughs quietly as I shrug, whispering, "It wasn't like I knew what to get." She drops the pillow and grabs my hand, pulling me after her into the kitchen. I expect her to explain in some way the process of pillow selection or whatever, but instead she pushes me up against the kitchen counter and begins to kiss me roughly.

She wastes no time as her tongue travels into my mouth and her teeth nibble on my bottom lip. I don't know where it has come from, nor do I care as I spin her around and pick her up, unable to avoid noticing how incredibly light she was, setting her down on the counter top. She laughs as one of her hands pulls away from my hair to reach underneath her leg and pull out a spoon which she tosses in the sink, making a loud clank. Neither of us think much of it as we continue on our make out session, my lips traveling downward some as I kiss along her neck, just the she liked best. She let's out a soft moan and I can't help but ask why, of all times, did I have to have my mother in my living room and my sister in my bed? Why, why, why?

"Get a room would you?" We break apart immediately, I'm practically on the other side of the kitchen, and both turn to find my sister standing in the doorway with her eyebrows raised at us.

"You took ours," I say gruffly, wiping off Izzie's lip gloss from my face. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I thought she was dying," is her response as she gestures to Izzie. I take a deep breath to keep from responding. "Besides, I came out when I heard someone throwing dishes around. You guys are not quiet people."

"So sorry," my voice dripping in sarcasm.

Izzie hops down of the counter, steady on her feet as she straightens her scarf and smiles at Amber. "Sorry we woke you up," she says, sounding sincere. I was sorry we'd woken her up too, but probably in a different way. "We brought home some breakfast if you want any."

She was trying, probably a little too hard from Amber's perspective, but I was just grateful that she was really trying, because she was currently the only one. "I'm full."

10:03 AM

I'd dragged Amber out of the book her nose was in and forced her to sit down at the kitchen table with Izzie and I about ten minutes ago. Previously we'd been talking quietly, Izzie chatting away about the whole five minutes of her morning I'd missed, but once Amber had gotten out there things had turned quiet quickly. I had a feeling Izzie didn't want to say anything and evoke another rude response from her.

This wasn't going to work, I quickly decided. I couldn't live like this for twenty-four hours, let alone eight full days. I had left because of this, well this and several other reasons, but I couldn't stand the icy stares or the smart remarks. Not in my house, and not to my wife. In all actuality, Amber was little more than nothing to me. She was just an idea, in reality, just the basic thought of a sister who I had once known. Izzie was my life. She got my loyalty hands down, no questions asked. I couldn't very well kick them out on the streets, but I could buy them an early plane ticket home and tell them to get lost. In fact, were it not for my estranged mother still sleeping in the other room, I probably would have already.

"So," I finally say in an attempt to break the awkward silence. "You like math, huh?"

"Yep," she answers, popping her p as she leans back in her chair with a sigh. "You like sick people, huh?" She inserts a mocking tone at the end. I think for a second she's talking about Izzie, but then figure it's probably more so in reference to my job.

"I like to help heal them." I groan at my own answer, annoyed with how political it sounded. "Really, I just kind of like cutting them open and doing cool stuff to them." We needed to stop acting like people we weren't, for one. Maybe that would help the process.

"You should cut Mom's brain open, doing something to make that cool, or at least normal." She was bitter toward Mom, that was becoming exceedingly apparent. I couldn't blame her, taking care of her was a full time job, living with her was depressing, and at sixteen you don't want to deal with stuff like that. You want to hang out with friends, break the rules, slum around at school. Being a caretaker didn't really fit that criteria of a lifestyle. Then again, neither had being an unwanted foster kid. Izzie gets up from the table, grabbing one of her cookies that sat on the counter in the corner, right next to the cupcakes and in front of the muffins. "Could you hand me one of those?" Amber asks, saying her first civil sentence to Izzie since she got here. Those cookies must have magical powers.

"Sure," Izzie answers happily, bringing two extra back to the table. "Do you like them? I can make more."

"God yes," Amber answers, spare crumbs falling from her mouth. We had the same eating habits, that much was obvious. "Where'd you learn to bake like this?"

Izzie's face lights up, going unnoticed by Amber who was still intently devouring her cookie. "I learned a lot of stuff from my mom over the years. Plus just practice over the years. Knowing what works best, when to deviate from your own recipe, stuff like that. Speaking of my mom though, Alex. The rest of the ornaments are supposed to come in the mail today."

"Apparently there's such a thing as baby ornaments," I explain to my sister who looked confused at the connection Izzie had drawn.

"Yeah, I know. I have some," she answers with a shrug.

"You did? How come I never had any?" I had to admit, I was a little insulted here.

"Because I was grandma's first granddaughter and you were the kid Mom had with her bum of a boyfriend." I would have to remember to thank grandma next time I saw her. "She's dead, by the way."

"What?" I hadn't heard a word from them about that. We might not talk often, but you'd think that might have warranted a phone call. "What happened? She was only in her sixties."

"Lung cancer, no surprise there. She took in more smoke than she did oxygen." A good point that was. Every memory I had of my grandmother, and there weren't a ton, included her with a cigarette in her hand. I couldn't help but remember the time I tried to buy her cigarettes for her birthday because she had spent all of her money on mom's hospital bills that month, leaving her without the funds to buy her precious addiction. The guy at the store sent me away without a second thought. I'd only been eight at the time, made a lot more sense now than it did back then.

"How'd Mom handle that?" Her and Grandma had had the worst relationship. They only ever talked when Mom needed money or Grandma wanted to see where we'd been evicted to in order to send us Christmas cards. We had lived with her for a short time, when I was about six. Dad had "left" and we didn't have anywhere else to go. My mom and her fought the whole time we were there, but the day we'd left Grandma had tears in her eyes as she hugged me and Aaron goodbye, begging my mom to stay with her instead of going back to my dead beat father.

"The same way she handles everything." Her answer isn't as crass as usual this time, an edge of sadness impeding in on her character of anger. It was one of those moments where the guilt just started to eat me alive as I considered all the years I'd missed, all the times I'd left her and Aaron to handle everything all on their own, hardly giving them any warning before skipping out on them. She'd cried so much that day as I threw my duffel bag down on the floor and hugged her goodbye. I had always promised to come back soon. It had obviously been an empty promise.

"Well someone should have called me," I say, entering back into the now. "I would have come to the funeral."

"There wasn't one," she answers with a sigh. We all stop talking as the springs on the couch from the other creak, giving way as my mother finally gets up. I hear her groan as she stretches, the sound of a bone cracking being heard in here.

"Good morning, Mrs. Karev," Izzie says as my mother walks into the kitchen. She looks like a mess with her hair all mashed up and her eye makeup smudged. She smiles in our general direction as she begins walking to the sink, staring at it in confusion before her location must register in her mind and she turns, looking for something else. "Did you sleep well?"

"I need a phone," is her answer. "Where did you move the phone, Amber?" Amber gets up quickly, reaching into her pocket and handing Mom her cell. "You can use this one, Mom."

She looks at it, almost like she doesn't know what it is. "I didn't ask for this damn phone, now did I?" she yells, her voice reaching a manic level. She throws the phone and it slams against the wall. It's in pieces before it even makes it to the tiled floor, which only causes more smashing. "Give me the goddamn phone you little shit!" I jump up, reacting quickly as my mother's hand reaches out, ready to smack my sister. I grab her around the waist in order to try and restrain her without harming her.

"Mom, it's me. It's Alex." I try and turn her to face me, gripping her forearms in my hands as I look into her eyes. I remembered the protocol. Don't yell, don't fight back, don't restrain them if they're still fighting. It was second nature to me. "Mom! You and Amber are visiting me. I don't have a regular phone, but I have a different one you can use." I speak slowly, keeping my tone calm, and then, just like that, she stops. She looks confused as she stares at me.

"Is this real?" she asks, unsure of anything outside of the ordinary. "Amber is this real?"

"Yes, Mom, it's real," she confirms in a shaky voice as she bends down and picks up the scattered remains of her cell phone. I could see from here how the screen was cracked. "You aren't imagining this."

"Oh," she responds simply. "I'm sorry. He was just so angry, yelling at me to find the phone. I really needed it." I sigh, knowing who "he" probably was. She snapped out of it quickly enough though, which was reassuring in the very least. Her episodes used to last for hours as she talked to her voices, imagining that the coat rack was a gunman or the fridge a bomb.

There's a brief moment where we all just look to one another, unsure of what to do. It'd been so long since I had last done this. "So how did you sleep," Izzie cuts in, standing up from her spot at the table and placing her hands on my arms, causing me to release my grip from around my mother's wrists. She takes my hand in her's and squeezes it in reassurance.

"Well," she answers. "I need some juice." She walks around us and goes to the fridge, opening it and then just staring for several seconds. I sigh, dropping Izzie's hand as I walk to the living, picking up my mom's purse and searching through it for her meds.

4:12 PM

The door swings shut as I close it on the delivery guy, carrying the pizzas into the house as Izzie follows behind with the bag for our fries. "Dinner," I say as I pass through the living room and into the kitchen. We lay out the paper plates and Izzie grabs the glasses we'd bought the other day, setting them at each place. I almost laugh as she gets our silverware too, despite the fact that we're eating pizza. Now I was almost positive she using it to prove something.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asks as my mom and sister sit down, Amber grabbing a slice out of my hand and plopping it on her plate as she comes in. At least I knew she wasn't malnourished. "We have coke, orange juice, and water." I smile at the sound of my hostess wife, the complete opposite of where I would think I'd have ended up five years ago. Wives and family events had never been apart of the bachelor plan exactly.

"Surprise me," Amber answers vaguely as she sets in on her pizza, not bothering to wait for Izzie or I. My mom just looks at the food I place in front of her, not touching it or saying a word about it. "She needs to take her next meds now," Amber comments in reference to Mom. "Eat, would you?" She sounds rude, a little harsh even, but it must work in some way because she picks up her pizza and takes a tentative bite.

"I'm sorry I couldn't cook something," Izzie apologizes as we all sit down. She passes out napkins to everyone. "Someone wouldn't let me." She turns and gives me a glare, but not for more than a second. She knew as well as I did that her attempting to cook for four people wasn't the best idea right now.

"Pizza's lovely," my mother comments, just as pleasant as a real guest. She looked pretty good now. After her episode she had nibbled on a banana, stared blankly at the television for an hour, and then promptly took a nap.

I'd forced Izzie to bed as well, insisting she shouldn't push it and also kind of just wanting to dissolve the tension that had returned after Mom's moment. She went with a fight, like a screaming toddler practically, but when I put in a "please" or two she had finally relented. Amber and I had played a game of poker. It had about bored the two of us to tears at first, but had quickly become far more interesting when we began using cookies as wagers. It turned out Amber had an incredible competitive side to her.

I was hoping someone would be coming up with things to do fairly soon. I wouldn't be able to handle all of this sitting around the apartment for too long. I also knew my mother could only handle so much in terms of crowds and new places though, making things a little more difficult. If all else failed, I at least still had the backup to get away from them both by insisting Izzie and I had gift shopping to do. I hoped desperately that while we were out she would point out something she wanted, solving my problems of indecision.

"So where did you grow up?" my mother asks Izzie, her tone friendly. In all honesty, this was one of the best states I'd seen her in. Before it used to be whenever she wasn't having an episode, she was lethargic, useless practically. She was obviously depressed and lonely, with nothing anyone could do to help it. Seeing her sitting here eating and initiating conversation told me one of two things. Either she was getting better or this environment was just good for her. Maybe it was just Izzie's magic cookies. I'd decided that would just be the explanation to all things strange. If they could make my sister momentarily friendly, they could do anything.

"Right in Washington," she answers. "Over in Chehalis, near Forest Park?" She says it like a question, probably unsure if my mom would have the slightest idea where that was or not.

"Oh, how nice," she answers. So, obviously not. "You must be close with your mother." I'm sure she's speaking in reference to the box we had received earlier today. It'd been nice to open it and find not only the ornaments Izzie had asked for, but also gifts for her and I which she had placed under the tree with a smile. I had to admit, it was nice that she had thought of me. Especially considering how...scattered the woman seemed. In her letter she had explained that her psychic had instructed her to get us these gifts. I wondered what would happen if they replaced all of the psychics in the world with therapists. Considering how well they heeded their advice, it might be a good idea.

"Sort of," she answers. Compared to me and my mom, definitely, but compared to the general population, not so much. Therefore, that was how she landed in the "sort of" category. "She lives kind of far away. I haven't really seen her in a while."

"Six years?" Amber asks bitterly as she picks a mushroom off of her pizza. "Because if not then I win. Unless, we're talking parents, in that case you have to beat eight."

Izzie and I look to each other, exchanging a glance that said how neither of us knew how to respond. It was obviously a jab at me, directed toward Izzie. "Sometimes circumstances prevent things from being the way you want all the time."

She scoffs, putting her pizza down and standing from the table. "I'm just gonna go shower," she says as she walks from the room. All eyes turn on me as she goes, like I had any control over the girl. In all actuality shouldn't we be staring at my mother?

"Did I tell you she made honor roll?"

8:22 PM

"Good night," I say to my mom as I kiss her cheek. I was proud to see how well she had done today. She was loopy, a little out of it really, but she only had a moment with the schizo today and we'd moved past it quickly. That told me she was at least taking her meds and my money was going to something useful in some way. She wasn't a productive person by any means, still behaved depressed, and I caught her talking to herself a few times today, but overall, compared to what I'd left six years ago, she was doing pretty okay.

"Want to hang out with Izzie and I at all?" I ask uselessly to my sister as she sits in the kitchen, her chair leaned back and her feet up on the table as she scribbles furiously in her trigonometry book. What a weirdo.

"Rhetorical, right?" she responds and I roll my eyes.

I get up and lean forward to look at her book, squinting my eyes to see if that would help make gibberish anymore understandable. "Please just try," I ask quietly and then stand back up, walking away. "Goodnight," I call as I leave the room. I walk into our bedroom and shut the door, finding Izzie getting dressed after her shower. I strip down into my boxers and black tank top and the two of us fall into bed. Despite it being eight-thirty at night we were somehow still exhausted, drained mentally and physically. "Are you as exhausted as I am?" I ask, groaning as I roll my face into my pillow, realizing neither of us had turned the light off. I knew I wasn't going to be getting back up to fix it anytime soon.

"I'm glad you made me take a nap," is her answer, which tells me more than enough. She was never glad that I made her do anything, especially if it pertained to something to help her not collapse and die. "How are you holding up?" she asks, her own eyes staring angrily at the light above us, like it was its own fault for being on still.

I laugh a little bitterly at her question, instead just facing her and kissing her gently. "You had a really good day today," I comment surprised that she'd never really degraded like I had suspected. "You even almost finished a slice of that pizza." I shouldn't sound proud of that, but I do.

"I know," she answers through a yawn. "I'm hoping the rest of the week will be like that too."

"Yeah," I answer plainly. If I had learned anything throughout these courses of chemo, it was that there was no such thing as a week of good days, a bad day always fell in somewhere, creeping in and stealing all the normalcy you'd thought you had established. I hated it. I hated never knowing how she was going to wake up in the mornings or progress through the day. Uncertainty was killer. "Don't push it though, okay?"

"Promise," she answers for once. I think she knew how much her little seizure there had scared me. It just proved to me yet again how quickly things could change for us. I had laid down to fall asleep with my wife and she'd almost died an hour later. I'd hugged her after surgery, celebrating a full recovery, only for her to stop breathing out of no where and almost not start again. Every day, every moment, and every breath was filled with the idea of there not being another one. It could happen again in an instant, we could be unable to save her or they might decide to stick the DNR. I didn't like to ever consider it, because the belief that she was going to live was the mantra we moved forward with, but it was true, and it was scary as hell.

"I love you," I tell her with that thought, kissing her again. If anything were to happen I'd want to know I'd said "I love you" and kissed her as much as I could. I needed to make the most of what I had, even with taunting words like remission hanging around the corner.

She smiles at me and kisses me back. I'm obviously anticipating an "I love you too" in return but instead she goes with, "How much?"

"Excuse me?" I ask, pulling away. She didn't sound insecure, much more so...mischievous. "What do you need to know that for?"

"Because if you _really_ love me you'd shut the light off." I roll my eyes at her, but sure enough get up and flip off the switch. She laughs as I climb back into bed and lightly tickle my fingers over her stomach in revenge.

"Oh quit it," she tells me, pushing my pursuing fingers away with surprising force. I'd have kept going but she distracted me with her lips as they pressed against mine."

"Why did we invite my family again?" I question, wanting little more right now than for both of us to strip naked and make sweet love on just about every flat surface in the house.

She giggles again and pulls away, laying her head on my chest. We stay quiet after that, and I wonder for a second if she's fallen asleep. I know she must still be awake though from the way she's breathing. "I saw Hannah today," I confess, grateful to not feel a need to lie about it anymore. It might suck to hear, but she could handle it. Besides, it had to be better than her just not knowing.

"Oh yeah?" she asks calmly, her voice a little too restrained. "How is she?"

"Good, she looks healthy." It was a stupid thing to say to someone normally, because cancer patients never technically looked healthy, but Izzie understood that we were talking about on the cancer spectrum here. There was the really sick cancer patients, like Izzie on her chemo days, and then the healthier ones, like Hannah. She might deal with vomiting and fatigue, but her figure stayed far more intact, her face fuller, and her eyes alert. She looked much better in terms of the cancer style than some.

"Any news on her diagnosis?" she asks, sounding like a concerned parent almost. I knew she cared. She cared in the way I'd grown to care. Not because we knew her or liked her or anything like that, because she was Izzie's daughter, and that was all that really needed to matter.

"Nothing new," I report sadly. "She'll be back in three weeks for her next infusion." She nods, and tips her face up to kiss my jaw.

"Thank you for telling me," is all she says. We'd never really discussed the situation that had happened. Izzie's anger must have dissolved as she decided I had been punished enough or something. Maybe it was too hard for her to talk about? Whatever it was, I was kind of glad. I really didn't know if I would be able to explain myself very well.

My eyes glance over to the clock. I'm shocked when I see the time. "How the hell are we this tired at nine?" I ask. "How many nights have we spent up till midnight only to get up at five the next day?"

"Well that's just to face a day of intensive surgery and stressful medical care," she answers, her tone suggesting it was the simplest thing. "Compared to your family it's like watching soap operas all day."

I laugh in response. "It's almost sad how right you are." I hold her to me as I close my eyes, not caring if it was nine at night or two in the morning. I was tired and my wife was here next to me, alive and well. And so I slept.

**Holy cow that was a lot of writing I just did. I wrote this in essentially one sitting so, even though it's up late again, I hope you can all forgive me. Also, expect another late update tomorrow. I have a thirteen hour work day ahead of me. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter. You guys are all so awesome and consistent! We've entered the homestretch here, only a week left and then it's over. I can't believe I've made it this far to be completely honest lol. At least, not with such a...velocity of chapters. I also can't believe how many of you take the time to read them everyday. You all are awesome! Let me know your thoughts. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	19. Chapter 19

Izzie – December 19th 10:42 AM

The sting of the morning air wakes me as the comforter falls to the floor, leaving me uncovered. "Mm," I groan, reaching over to find Alex for some warmth. The area around me is bare, telling me I've slept far too late. I shudder as my hand gropes along the floor, trying to find the comforter to our bed which had, somehow, managed to get kicked off. I must have been having one interesting dream for that to happen. Finally my hand closes around it and I draw it up to me, placing it on top of my shivering body. Why was it always so cold to me in the morning? I know I should probably get up and face Alex and his family, but there's just something so...demotivating, about the idea of facing a teenage girl who hates your very existence and a mother-in-law who was mildly insane and prone to either angry outbursts or general odd behavior.

I didn't want to have to get up, take a shower, do my makeup, pick out a nice outfit, fret over which scarf to wear, not this early in the morning. I wanted to roll out of bed and wander to the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea. I wanted to enjoy getting time with my husband without him working for once. We could, watch the Price is Right together or I could make him waffles for breakfast. I didn't have to care about what I looked like or worry about what I said. Being with Alex was effortless. Being around his family was...impossibly stressful.

I was hardly about to complain though. I still felt guilty for bringing this all on, and I really hoped they could reconcile in some way. Watching him and his sister interact yesterday had been mildly heartbreaking. Alex's face just fell when he heard of his grandmother's death. It wasn't right that that was how their family was, and if there was any chance at all that my patience and cooperation could help recuperate their relationships, I would take all the abuse and crazy that I could.

It's with that mindset that I force myself out of bed, finding everything I would need to get myself ready after I got out of the shower and carrying it in my arms. It wasn't like at Mer's where I could just walk around in a towel while I ate my breakfast. Now that I thought about it, I should call Meredith. She had plenty of experience with crazy. I open the bedroom door, hearing the TV on in the living room and deciding to just make a dash for the bathroom. No one would notice me and my bare head for the ten feet it took to get to the shower. At least, that was what I was trying to convince myself.

I walk out of the room, still pajama clad, and just as I reach the bathroom, the door swings open, revealing Alex's sister Amber, who stares at me in surprise. I want to throw my shirt over my head or something, anything, to cover up my bald scalp and the ugly scars that marred it. I think better of it though, taking a deep breath and just making up my mind to handle the situation with a little more ration. "Morning," I say, my eyes habitually scanning for Alex. I wouldn't put it past the girl to just attack me.

Instead she stares, just blatantly stares at me and my stupid, hairless head! I mean, it'd been pretty apparent that manners were not something heavily pressed upon the members of the Karev family, but still, wasn't it just common courtesy to not stare at someone because they looked weird. Whether it be because they had an arm missing, or were three and a half feet tall, or if they were a cancer patient with no hair. You just don't stare. "What?" I finally asked, irritation in my voice for once.

She blinks, once, twice, before looking me in the eye and shaking her head. "Nothing," she answers with a shrug and then just walks away. What an obnoxious, rude, little...Breathe, I remind myself. Just...breathe.

11:12 AM

Stepping out of the shower and into the steaming room I wrap a towel around my body, using an edge of it to wipe off a section of the mirror and trying to look at myself. Was I really that appalling without something to cover my head? I knew I was kind of paranoid about it, but I always just thought it was in my head, the idea that I had to cover it at all times. Did I honestly look like that much of a freak show?

Sighing I look away, deciding not to care as I roughly towel dry my body, happy to find the task so easy, no longer a complicated process of trying to maintain balance and be thorough at the same time. Hopefully that meant today would be another good day. Were that the case I'd be insisting we go out. Maybe we could go see a movie. At least those don't require talking or interaction beyond sharing popcorn.

My clothes slide on a little too easily as I close the button of my pants without feeling like anything had been done to them at all. I knew I would need a belt if this is how they are now. My goal after the chemo finishes? Gain about fifteen pounds back, hopefully restoring weight in the areas I needed it. If all else failed I'd get a gym membership. Although, once I started back at work I wouldn't have much time for working out, or anything else. The thought of how much work I had to catch up on compared to where everyone else was right now, or would be in another ten months, was daunting. Plus how out of practice would I bed? Knitting was hardly the same as suturing. Cutting up tomatoes didn't compare to cutting through flesh. If I didn't stay on top of my game somehow I'd practically be back at intern level, knowing my books and lacking in all things requiring working with a patient. And this time there'd be no skulls for me to drill holes into in order to force me back into things.

I do my usual business of foundation and blush, making sure to pay a little extra attention to under my eyes and the bags that somehow sat there. Had I not just slept for twelve hours? I even go a little adventurous and apply a light amount of eyeshadow, hoping to bring out the brown of my irises. Finally I pull on and secure my scarf, still attempting to forget Amber's face as she stared at me earlier. If nothing else at least I'd be able to prove Alex wrong. That was always fun.

I gather up my courage and step out of the bathroom, dumping my armful of dirty laundry into the pile of clothes in our room before preceding out to the living room. I walk out in hopes to drag Alex into the kitchen and talk to him or something, but find just Amber and her mom sitting there, the TV on as the both stared catatonically at it. I wondered if this was what they did at home which, in that case, made me want to shove them out the door and take them for a jog or something. No wonder they're all cranky and depressed if their lives consisted of such dull activities.

The kitchen appears empty as well as I check it before asking, "Where'd Alex go?" It wasn't like him to leave in the mornings without saying goodbye to me, even if I was still sleeping. Although, sometimes he would say goodbye and I wouldn't even remember it by the time I woke up, having lost it somewhere between dreams and realities. Wherever he'd gone off too, he'd better not take too long. I only had so much to say to these two.

"He said something about going to the store," Amber replies plainly. I sigh, sitting myself in the corner of the couch so I wasn't too close to either of them. Just great, this was just great.

12:29 PM

"Where the hell are you?" I whisper into the phone as I stand in my bedroom with the door closed. I hardly thought the two of them would be eavesdropping, and yet I still felt the need to keep my voice lowered. "You've abandoned me here with the hateful, angry adolescent, along with the half-dead like mother. It's a little creepy how she just...stares at the TV. I almost think I could turn it off and she wouldn't even notice." I stop, taking a breath and panicking irrationally for a second when I realize I'd forgotten to whisper. "Alex? Are you there?"

"I'm sorry, Iz," he apologizes, whether for the late response or not being here, I wasn't entirely sure. "I'm doing this...thing, and it's taking longer than I expected. You know, holiday crowds and all." I can hear the mischievousness in his voice from here, like he knows he's lying and he hates to do it but he's going to anyway. I was a little concerned considering what the last secret had been. I couldn't help but wonder periodically throughout the day, since she seemed to adore Alex so much, maybe if she learned his wife was technically her birth mother...maybe this time she wouldn't be so quick to dismiss me. I wanted it. I wanted it so bad it made me want to cry. Last time I had thought that I'd had it, but then it vanished on me. Now it was like something being dangled in front of my face, just out of reach for me to get but constantly taunting me. I just wanted to talk to her, and not as Alex's wife or the cookie lady.

"You're not lying to me, are you?" I question. I knew it couldn't be anything terrible. He was probably looking for a last minute Christmas gift to get me and couldn't find anything, hence amount of time he'd been gone. I'd like a Christmas gift right now, of him coming home and saving me from this family reunion.

"Just go with it," he asks, and now I know he's trying to find my Christmas gift. "I promise I'll be home soon."

"Mhm, sure thing," I answer sarcastically. "Just remember I like chocolate," I finish in a singsong voice. "But what do I do with them until you get back here?"

"Just...let them stare at the TV, I guess." I sigh, some help he was. "When I get home you and I can go out. Leaving my impossible family behind."

"Ooh, where?" I ask, my interest peaked at the thought of getting out. Hopefully I wouldn't need to be escorted around in a shopping cart this time, no matter how much fun it might have been before. "And isn't that kind of rude, Alex?" I ask, not being able to help but laugh a little at the ridiculousness of it. We'd invited them, spent all this time preparing for when they got here, the whole deal, only now we were doing everything to get away from them. It was stupid, that's what it was, but how much could be done about it?

"Iz, it's been two days of them and I already want to blow my brains out," he says, sounding frustrated. I hear someone in the back call out his name. "Listen, we'll go Christmas shopping and pick up Chinese or something for dinner. It'll be fine."

"I guess," I answer, the only reason I didn't argue in reply was because I wanted out of here as much as he did. What had I been thinking when I'd picked up at that phone? They should make some rules when you're on chemo about not making any Christmas altering decisions.

"I gotta go, good luck." He hangs up, leaving me on that note. I wondered how immature it would be to hide out in my room until he got back?

2:57 PM

"I know it's here somewhere," I mutter to myself as I flip through the papers on my lap, looking for the list I had made for potential things to get Meredith. I wanted to add Bath and Body Works to the list, always a great fall back, I thought. I really needed to get some friends who liked things other than surgery. I should just buy them all a rare surgery for Christmas. If only you could legally do that.

"And yet you won't let me touch any of this stuff in fear I'll mess it up?" he questions me as he eyes me speculatively while we sit at the red light. "I'll never understand your system." He looks over at the scraps of paper covering my legs, picking up one that was for my mother, with basic gift ideas like lotion and baking supplies. I had a feeling I'd be using the fallback of jewelry quite a lot today. He laughs as he picks up another and I snatch it out of his hand to see which it was. Sure enough it was labeled "Alex" with nothing but blank space beneath it. He'd have to pick up that one, wouldn't he?

"I bought your gift before I had the time to write anything down," I lie, snatching it out of his hand and crinkling it up. "The light's green," I inform him rudely. I sigh, rubbing my eyes to try and wake myself up as we drove the twenty minute ride to Wal-mart. The traffic today was terrible, more like living in New York than Seattle with the streets back up for lights at a time. The ride was putting me to sleep, making my eyes heavier as we go. It was pretty ridiculous considering how much sleep I'd managed to get the night before. I was used to feeling a little tired every moment of the day, but this legitimate exhaustive feeling would just have to go.

"So, I was thinking," he starts as he turns into Wal-mart and begins circling the parking lot for a space decently close. I pull out the handicap sticker from the glove compartment, waving it in his face. Another good thing about having cancer, if you had a doctor's note it wasn't that hard to obtain one of these beautiful parking permits. "Maybe we should just go to Canada for the holidays and forget my family."

I laugh as I roll my eyes, unable to help but mildly approve of that idea. "I don't think it'd work so well," I answer as I get out of the car, stretching and shaking my head to help wake myself up some. Alex wraps an arm around my waist as we make our way into the store. "For one, I don't have a passport."

"And two?" he asks, clearly not satisfied with the first.

"For two, we were stupid enough to go and invite your family."

3:38 PM

I laugh at Alex's comment as I grab his hand, pulling him back toward the jewelry section. "We can't not get her anything," I explain as he follows. I point out a pair of earring silently that he simply shrugs at, obviously having no opinion.

"I didn't say that we weren't going to get her anything," is his smart ass response. I roll my eyes and drag him to the display case containing birthstones.

"Coal does not qualify as a gift," I explain. "When's her birthday?" He shrugs again, his moody behavior getting on my nerves now. I place my hands on my hips and glare at him, making a point to let him know I wasn't going to tolerate this. "Look, she's your sister and she's come here to visit us for Christmas. That means we're obligated to get her something, and, although I know you are entirely lost on the process, generally speaking you are at least supposed to place minimum thought into the present."

"If I'm so lost how come I've already bought your gift and you still haven't gotten me anything?" I turn and gape at him, annoyed at whoever decided to tell him that I had yet to decide on what I wanted to get him. Plus I was kind of appalled that he had already managed to find me something.

"Doesn't count," I point out, remembering something. "You have an easy fix of just getting me a real wedding ring." I know I've gotten it wrong when I look at his face and see how worried he now looked. He begins to mumble some random numbers, obviously trying to figure out if he could afford to get that. "No, no, Alex, I didn't mean you had to. I love the one I have." I still wore it everyday, ignoring any comments on it being tacky or unofficial. It was mine. Besides, my husband could be kind of tacky and unofficial himself, so it was fitting.

"Well fine, is my gift viable now?" he asks gruffly, picking up some hideously green necklace and turning it an odd angle to look at it before hanging it back up.

"Yes, very viable, and never, ever buy me something that looks like that." I gesture to the ridiculous accessory, making a face as though it had personally offended me. The fact that my husband had picked it up did a little.

"Does any of this look better than all of the rest?" he asks, sounding an awful lot like an ignorant man. "She liked horses."

I smile, happy to see him being helpful for the first time on this whole trip. "Horses?" I ask, having a hard time imagining Amber Karev with pony wallpaper. If she was really into them, like with riding and all, I could always get her some sort of accessory to go with it. Could you buy gift certificates for stables? Let her go and ride for an hour or whatever with it?

"She was ten then, so maybe not." He's back to shrugging now, walking away from the jewelery section. I follow, unhappy with what I'd found there anyhow. I shift our basket from one hand to the other. It wasn't very full, having a bracelet for my mom and some headphones for Cristina. It wasn't the best present, but considering that she only liked surgery, Owen, and music, I figured I'd go with the music side of things. Somewhere along the way we'd also picked up some toothpaste and new underwear for Alex. If all else failed at least we'd have clean teeth and not have to do laundry for another few days. "Any other ideas?" he questions as we wander into junior's clothing.

I try to use my tactics on her as I'd done with Cristina. What did she like? How did she spend her time? So far all I'd picked up on though was her bad attitude, television watching, and cookie eating. What other interests did she have that would qualify as a a gift? "How about some Zoloft," I suggest jokingly. Alex smiles as he holds up some atrocious, horizontally striped sweater. She didn't seem like the sweater type of girl really, she liked nothing, literally. I needed to get her a free session with a therapist...I could hardly even remember the girl smiling since she'd been there... "I got it."

6:19 PM

"We're back!" Alex yells as he shoves the door open, finding the living room empty. I had to admit, it was a little concerning to find them both gone. Maybe we'd been lucky enough and the two of them had made some sort of homicide/suicide deal, putting everyone out of their misery.

"I hope you got food because you have nothing in your kitchen," Amber comments as she walks out, eying the massive amounts of bags we were carrying. After having found the perfect gift for Amber, my holiday inspiration had returned, allowing me to easily buy gifts for the people I wanted to most. Aside from Alex, of course. I still had nothing for Alex.

"Chinese," I say with a smile as I hand her the bag. "You and your mom can start serving, Alex and I will be out in a second." She doesn't reply back or send me a nasty look which seemed like improvement to me. Alex and I haul the bags into our bedroom, shutting the door behind us. "Tonight I say you're the observer and I'm the conversation starter," I instruct as we begin pulling things out of their bags and stick them in the closet. Thankfully Alex had about, two dress outfits, so we had enough room to shove everything in there somewhere. "They'll never start to like me if they don't know me."

"My mom loves you," Alex comments, though I can tell by his voice that he himself doesn't fully understand why. It wasn't like I'd spoken to the woman much, or done anything to impress her.

My cell phone begins to ring, I pick it up as I note it's my mother. "Hi, Mom," I say, trying to add a touch of cheeriness to my voice.

"Hey, Cricket," she answers, the endearing nickname drawing a smile from me. "Did your ornaments get there yet? I'd thought I flirted with the post man well enough to get some priority shipping.

I groan at the thought of my mother spending her time just as she always did. Finding men, gambling away money, and religiously seeing a psychic. Some things never changed. "Got them yesterday," I tell her, not bothering to explain you were able to track the progress on the internet.

"Fabulous," she says and I can sense more coming from her. "Listen, I was thinking maybe I could come...you know, visit you and Alex this Christmas." I shake my head immediately, unwilling to let me mother within a hundred miles of the mess that had already been created. "The drive isn't that far and I could always bring along a...male friend so I wouldn't be some third wheel."

"Mom," I interrupt, searching my mind as quickly as I could for some excuses to tell her that didn't involve Alex's family having actually gotten an invitation. "Don't bother. Alex is working and I'm...I'll be volunteering the soup kitchen," I lie, knowing that the last thing my mother wanted to do was volunteer in a soup kitchen. She hated serving people and especially when no money came with it.

"Well if he's working why don't you come down here? We can go to church just like we always do." I have brush of nostalgia as I recall the fancy church services with the play's performed and the hymns sang. The story of Jesus' birth was always told by the priest and communion was taken. They used real wine in that church, I was still shocked that at six years old my mother had let me drink it for the first time. After that it became a tradition, and somehow we'd been deemed Catholic. Although, we only ever went to church that one night of week, on Christmas Eve.

"Mom, it sounds really fun, but I just can't this year." I didn't really desire for her to see me like this anyhow. Last she knew I had hair, and eyebrows, and something between my bones and skin. She didn't need to see the me that was withering away.

"I guess I knew you would say that," she answers, making me feel guilty. "I know how busy that job keeps you."

"Maybe next time," I offer halfheartedly. As far as I was concerned, next Christmas would be spent with no one but Alex and myself, maybe a dinner with some friends from work. We needed at least two years to recuperate from what this Christmas was becoming thus far. I hear Amber start yelling from the other room, a plate smashing against the tile floor as it was either dropped or thrown. Alex's mom joins in, probably having another episode from the sudden commotion around her. Wherever she'd been today, she had just been abruptly pulled out of it and she probably wasn't too appreciative...maybe three years.

10:22 PM

"I don't know if I can do this," Alex says with a shake of his head as we lay in bed that night, his eyes staring at me. Dinner had been a disaster of yelling, rampaging mother's, and an angry sister. Amber had eventually calmed down and apologized for throwing the plate, though neither Alex or I currently knew what had evoked that reaction from her. By the time the meal was finished I'd exhausted all of the questions I'd had to ask, Alex's mom mostly too zoned out to answer too many of them. She didn't even seem to recognize the food in front of her, but Alex prompted her to eat. It reminded me of Rebecca a couple years before. No wonder he'd been so good with her. He had been raised dealing with that.

Eventually Jeopardy had been turned on and it seemed like we could all sit there awkwardly, until Amber had made some comment about my close proximity, sending Alex over the edge as he yelled at her for her attitude. It was like living in a warring household, and I had no idea how to fix it except hang on to the 26th when we could kick them out for good.

Alex rolls over onto his back, pulling me with him so I lay on top of him. I lean on my elbows, staring down at him before pressing my lips against his. "Of course you can," I answer simply. Really, there was nothing simple about it. I was seeing that more and more over the past two days. It was complicated and painful and messy, and I'd brought it on myself. "You've put up with me."

He smiles briefly, letting out a breath of laughter. "Everything else should be a piece of cake, right?" he asks sadly. I want to cry for him, for the childhood he'd survived, for the woman with cancer that he'd married, for the Christmas I'd ruined. It all just made me want to cry.

"I love you," I try and say, my voice cracking in the middle. "And I'm really, really sorry." Oh great, now there would be tears and probably snot in a minute. I lay my head down on his shoulder, pressing my forehead against his neck as I try and stifle my sobs with my hand.

"Iz, stop crying about it. I'll make it." He sounds emotionless as he says it, but I know that he was probably just trying to keep from crying himself right now. "It can still turn out okay."

Just perfect, now he was the one comforting me when I felt so guilty about making things so horrible for him. How did that make any sense? I stop thinking about it as I just kiss him, again and again, not bothering to worry about breathing or all the tears on my face. "I'm sorry," I murmur again, not wanting to break away from this glorious contact.

"Stop it," he says, and sure enough his own face is wet as I touch it. I know he'd kill me if I ever said a word, but I was grateful, knowing I had a husband who cared about me and his family that much. "We're a mess." I smile as he uses the pad of his thumb to wipe of my tears away. There were too many though so he just takes the sleeve of his shirt to wipe off the rest, doing the same for himself, only far more roughly. "And I love you too."

"Let's talk about something happy," I suggest as I lay my head back down on his shoulder. "Just, forget about your family for like, ten minutes."

"Okay," he says as his hand begins to travel along my back. "I've been thinking lately," he starts and the stops, causing me to roll my eyes in frustration.

"Always good," I comment in irritation.

"Right well, I was thinking you know, about Christmas and stuff..." he trails off again and I roll my eyes. I really just wanted to tell him to spit it out already, but hold my tongue and remain patient. "Like for a few years from now and all."

"Alex, come on," I finally say. Either he was nervous or just didn't actually have anything to say. I'd like to find out which it was so we could address it and move on already.

"I think we should have kids," he blurts out. I don't move for a second, just staring at the wall, trying to process his odd train of thought. Then I lean back up and stare down at him, head cocked to the side. "Obviously not now, but you know, when the cancer's really gone and we aren't working as many crazy hours and stuff."

"Are you saying you want to have my babies?" I ask in a teasing tone, causing him to roll his eyes.

"I didn't jizz in a cup for the fun of it, Iz." I smile, leaning down and kissing him. "I just thought, you know, we're laying here talking about how miserable family is making us right now, maybe we should talk about a...better family, for later on."

"I want four," I blurt out. "And a dog, maybe two. We'll buy a bigger house once you're an attending, and I can have a big kitchen to make dinner in and make stuff for the kid's bake sales." I can't help but get excited as I share my thoughts of the future that I'd clung to for so many nights with my husband, who not only listened, but may want the same thing. "The girls could take ballet, and the boys could do hockey, though since it's so violent I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"What about gymnastics for the girls and soccer for the boys?" he suggests, playing along with me. "And the kitchen would have double ovens for all of your baking. I think we should build a tree house too. You know, a place where the kids could go if they wanted."

"Ooh, and a trampoline." We're this ridiculous couple, laying in bed thinking about the future that was a good ten years from now, and becoming ecstatically happy about it. It was kind of perfect. "But what if...what if the IVF doesn't work? Sometimes the embryos don't fertilize so well and just..." I trail off, not wanting to think about the possibility of my illness killing the chance for me to ever have children of my own. It was bad enough that unlike everyone else I couldn't just stop taking a little blue pill and then get pregnant. I had to spend thousands of dollars, go to doctors, get shots of hormones, all to have something that for most came so easily, accidentally even. It had happened to me on accident once, but never again.

"Then we figure something else out," Alex says simply as he kisses me. "And we get those four kids one way or another."

"And the two dogs and big kitchen," I remind him with a cheeky smile. I laugh as he rolls us over and assaults my neck with his lips. Our future looked bright, beautiful, and best of all, an actual possibility. I knew it'd be what everything we sat here hoping for. Alex stares down at me for a second, this look in his eye that I knew was something reserved for me as he kisses me sweetly on the lips. But right now, right now was pretty damn amazing too.

**I have a goal tomorrow. That goal is to update before midnight, let's see if it will happen. I promise this whole Alex's family situation will resolve itself some soon. I did give you all the embryo talk as you asked for. I hope you liked it. Feel free to throw in anything else you might want to see. I have plans for tomorrow's chapter that includes Izzie's check up, dinner out, and a legitimate blow up between two people. Go ahead and guess who that is. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	20. Chapter 20

Alex – December 20th 6:30 AM

"Iz," I whisper, giving her sleeping body a nudge from where I stand, still with a towel around my waist. "Izzie, come on we need to get up for your appointment." She lets out this pathetic little whimper and buries her face in her pillow. I sigh, happy to just relent and get back into bed, but knowing Bailey would kill us herself if we missed this appointment. I was in no mood to be rudely disturbed later with a long, angry lecture from her. "I know, but if we want to be almost on time you should really get up."

"I'm tired, Alex," she answers, her eyes not even opened yet as her head sank into the pillow. She curls up just a little more on the bed, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "And it's cold." I didn't think so myself since the only article of clothing I had on my body was a towel, but maybe she was right. To appease her I open a drawer to our dresser, pulling out a pair of her long, fuzzy socks and yank the blanket off to reveal her legs, which gets me a groan, then sliding them onto her feet. "Still cold."

I leave her for the moment, pulling on some boxers and a pair of jeans for myself. I fish out one of my black tank tops to pull on and a T-shirt. Next I look through Izzie's things, pulling out what she deems her "comfy jeans" along with a sports bra, and grabbing a sweatshirt from the closet. "Come on, Iz," I coax again quietly. I sit down on the bed next to her, leaving the clothes in a pile by her feet. "Do you want to listen to Bailey yell at us for being late?"

That gets her moving as she sits up, literally shaking from how cold she was. "God, Izzie, are you okay?" I place my hand against her forehead, constantly afraid of her fever spiking back. It wasn't uncommon for her to wake up with a chill, but this seemed a bit much.

"It's cold in here," she answers, her voice adapting a whiny tone to it. I return to the dresser drawers, pulling out a long sleeved thermal shirt for underneath of her sweatshirt.

"Here," I say holding it out for her to take. Her tired eyes stare at it for a second before taking it from my hand and sighing as she pulls off what she has on and replaces it with the shirt. She grabs the sweatshirt from me next, pulling it over top. "Now up," I say, extending a hand to help her get up and steady. She was still shaky, and her footing was off. She needed to go back to bed. I would just take her temperature. I'd call Bailey and explain Izzie was better off in bed today than getting up at seven to go to the doctors. "Go back to sleep," I instruct, trying to direct her back into bed.

"No," she denies, already stripping off her pajama pants. "I have to go the doctor's." Her eyes are heavy, they close for a couple extra seconds each time she blinks. She's still trying to get her jeans on, I reach out and grab her elbows to steady her, she grips my forearms for a second before pulling her pants the rest of the way up. "I need to go, Alex." She's insisting and I'm relenting. Mostly because I figured if she really was sick, the best place for her to go was the hospital. She didn't feel warm to me though, causing me to think she really was just exhausted. I'd drag Amber out of the house or something and just leave Mom and Izzie behind to sleep. I don't know...would Mom be okay with just Iz around? What if she got angry and combative or tried to kill herself out of nowhere? It used to happen all the time as kids. We'd be sitting there eating cereal and she'd grab a knife, beginning to slice into her throat or wrist before I'd jump up and stop her, always faster than her and far stronger.

Izzie's hands are shaking as she tries to tie her shoes, I kneel and do it for her before she can protest. "Let me grab the thermometer," I say, opening the door to the room and walking out to the kitchen, trying to be quiet so I didn't wake up my mother or insufferable sister. I find the thermometer on the counter where I'd left it, having taken her temperature a few times since we'd gotten home out of general paranoia. I sigh as I pull of the cover and walk back into our room. She'd had two really good days, and apparently the requirements for that was to be utterly miserable after that. She takes the thermometer from me without question and places it in her mouth.

While we wait for a reading I pick up two of her scarfs off the dresser, holding them up in front of her so she could choose. She points to the yellow one which I begin tying around her head as the thermometer begins to beep. "99.4," she reads.

"We're taking it again at the hospital," I instruct, not trusting the cheap one we'd picked up at CVS. "What else do you need?"

"My purse," she answers through a yawn, standing to her feet and taking the bag as I hold it out to her. "And a nap."

"You can sleep in the car," I promise, even though the ride shouldn't take us more than ten minutes, including the horrific Christmas traffic that seemed to just be everywhere. I go to the bathroom and get a washcloth, wetting it before returning and handing it to her as she washes her face. I put my own shoes on and grab her winter coat which had, somehow, eventually ended up in our room. She must have warmed up because her body stopped shaking, but she stilled seemed half asleep as I helped her into her coat. "Ready?"

"Yeah," she nods, standing with the help of my steady hand. I wrap an arm around her waist, prepared to support her weight if she needed it. We turn to walk out the open bedroom door, only to find Amber standing there, watching us.

"What do you want?" my voice is already irritated with her, losing all of the loving patience I'd been presenting to Izzie just seconds ago. I'm surprised when I look at her and she seems legitimately upset, not angry or annoyed as every other time I'd seen her.

"Nothing," she answers, her voice choked as she begins to walk away. "I don't want a damn thing from you."

I turn to Izzie, hoping she had some sort of response that just seemed to be missing from my own basic comprehensive skills. She's still half asleep as she shrugs, her eyebrows furrowing together in the confusion we both felt. "I don't get it," I say. I didn't think I'd done anything that offensive since I'd gotten up this morning. I mean yeah, tensions were high and no one was really getting along. It didn't help my mom's situation at all, yesterday had been worse than the day before and I wasn't too hopeful for today either, but where had Amber's little display of emotion come from?

"You should go talk to her," Izzie tells me, trying to pull away. "I'll go wait in the car." It doesn't take more than a second of processing for me to rule that one out, refusing to release my grip on her.

"Like I'm going to let you walk down three flights of stairs with your eyes shut?" I could see it now, I'd be putting her leg in a splint before taking her to the hospital for some far more extensive treatment than was originally planned. "We'll talk later, come on." I lead her out, ignoring the fact that I didn't see my sister anywhere in sight as we walk out the front door. I shut and lock it quietly behind me.

Izzie grips my arm as we start down the stairs, she must be dizzy. I sigh as we walk slowly, one step at a time and glance to my watch to see how much time we'd lost. It was almost seven now. I look around quickly before picking her up, settling her ever so small body in my arms before making my way down the rest of the stairs.

"Alex?" she questions, but actually just settles her head against my chest. If the car weren't so close I wouldn't be surprised if she actually fell asleep.

"I wanted to get there sometime today," I say in explanation, letting her down as we get outside and taking her hand instead. "At the rate you were moving we'd still be on the first flight." I look over at her, worried at what might be going on in her body right now. The last infection had seemed to be fought off quickly, but what if it hadn't been fully gone and the antibiotics weren't working? What if, due to her now even weaker immune system, she'd caught something else and her body couldn't handle it for a second time? She was already so weak, everyday dealing with fatigue and no appetite. I try to swallow my worst fears, refusing to acknowledge there potential and reminding myself how she would be fine. We had plans, and she needed to be around in order for those to happen.

"What if we end up having Christmas in the hospital?" she asks, laying her head back on the headrest as I pull the car out of it's parking spot. She leans forward to try and turn the heat on but I swat her hand away.

"It won't be warm air yet," I remind her first before sighing in response to her other question. "And then we have Christmas in the hospital." I shrug, showing how much I didn't really care about something like that. "In the way I look at it, we both spend a lot of time there, one way or another. It's close enough to a home."

Her head swivels over to look at me instead of out the windshield. "But there's no tree or kitchen or stocking hanging on the wall. And what about your family? They hate me enough as it is. I can't force them to..."

"If you end up getting admitted to the hospital," I say, turning to look her in the eye as I pull up to a stop sign on a back road that was deserted by anyone else for the moment. "Then it's not the end of the world. We make the most of it and you and I can do another Christmas, whenever you get home, in our ridiculously decorated apartment. You can bake cookies and I'll call in sick to work, and we will have a fake freakin' Christmas if that's what we need to do." I watch as a smile grows wider on her face, obviously pleased with the answer I'd provided. "It's not the end of the world. What would be the end of the world is anything happening to you. Everything else is just...unimportant." I turn my attention back to the road and continue driving, eyes now focused on the traffic I was about to drive into on the main road.

"Alex," she says and my eyes flit to her face for a second, forgetting on my resolve to not get distracted. "I really, really love you."

8:12 AM

The checkup had gone well, shockingly enough. Izzie had perked up once I had gotten a cup of tea in her and Bailey had prescribed rest fort he fatigue. How terribly helpful. We also both got an earful on keeping track of where this went, taking her temperature daily and making sure she ate well. She held on to my arm as we walked through the hospital now, after she had asked to go and seek out George before leaving. I still wanted to grit my teeth at the thought of him, but she was happy and was what I had wanted all along, so I guess I was happy too. We walk into the pit, a smile on Izzie's face as she scans the room. I watch her eyes focus in on a guy who was undoubtedly trauma, an ax sticking of his forehead, and yet he was sitting up filling out forms.

"I so miss this job," she says with a shake of her head, her body unconsciously leaning forward toward the case. "Do you think it went through his skull." We both cock our heads, trying to gain a better angle to see it. "It looks like it could be a superficial wound."

"No way," I argue. "That has to be in their deeper than that." I shake my head at the thought and Izzie rubs her forehead. "I'd like to see how Shepherd operates on this one."

"I'd like to know how it happens," she comments as she takes another sip of her tea. It was like old times, her and I standing in the pit as we discussed the potential of cases and guessed the outcome of the more...obscene ones. It had to happen again soon, right? I ask myself as I look over at Izzie. The light of excitement in her eyes was something that was missing far too often it seemed these days. She didn't look like herself standing here in the hospital, but some imposter version with a wearied body and shaved head. It wasn't that long ago that she'd been standing next to me in her scrubs, that same to go cup of tea in her hand as she'd pass it off to me to pull her hair back. We'd stand and talk just like we would now, with no constant worry of losing her and what we had. I had to think we'd be there again. The other possibility just too grim to try and face.

"George!" she exclaims happily, unfortunately keeping hold of my hand as we begin to walk and dragging me along with her. I'd almost rather be forgotten and just have her leave me behind while she want and talked to O'Malley. I needed to find a way to stop hating him maybe.

He smiles at her as she lets go of my hand and hugs him. Hadn't they seen each other two days ago? All the dramatics didn't really seem so necessary. "I'm gonna go say hi to Shepherd," I say, which probably sounded odd enough to her as I walk away that she was questioning it already. I didn't seek Shepherd out to greet him very often, after all. Whatever plea Meredith had put in with him to befriend me must have had some sort of effect though. He'd been all...chatty with me since then.

"Alex," Meredith says from behind me, causing me to turn and find her. She smiles as she walks over to me, shifting her charts into the crook of her arm. "Is Izzie okay?" she asks immediately, her mind going to the place it always jumped to for everyone these days.

"Yeah, Bailey just wanted to see her after letting her out a couple of days ago," I shrug. "Make sure we hadn't stifled our healing duties or whatever. You on axeman duty?" She was always on neuro these days. I could see it now, me in peds and her in neuro. The only one who was still focused on their original goal, was Yang and her endless obsession with cardiothoracics. I still wondered where Izzie would end up. There had been a time where I thought for sure she'd shift to cardio herself, after Denny and all, but her interested had never been caught it seemed. She told me once she wasn't "hardcore" enough, whatever that meant.

"Derek's having me take him up for CT," she says, a smile forming on her face. "Wanna come?" I roll my eyes at the surgical enthusiasts around here, never able to comprehend just how they could want nothing more out of life than cool surgeries. I couldn't lie, I'd choose Izzie over surgery any day. Maybe that made me a bad surgeon, putting family before surgery unlike everyone else, but it was true. It wasn't like I hadn't had time to think about what life would be without her, and frankly it didn't look all that great.

"Can't, Iz and I should probably go get home. I was actually looking for your husband to ask him a question." I wanted his thoughts for what I had landed on getting Izzie in the end. It wasn't something that was necessarily terribly expensive, but I really thought she would like it. I hoped someone else from the marriage perspective might agree.

"He's talking to the chief about something right now, but he shouldn't be too much longer," Meredith informs me as she begins walking again, obviously eager to get to axeman.

"Thanks," I say, turning and making my way in that direction. I ignored my thoughts on how I had a grumpy family waiting for me at home and that my wife was chatting away with her ex-boyfriend right now. Because everything would be okay. At the end of the day, Izzie would go home with me and eventually my mother and sister would leave and one day, finally, we'd have what we wanted with big kitchens and kids and dogs. So for now I'd ignore all the other crap, and just keep thinking about the good stuff.

9:01 AM

Izzie sighs as we drive home, laying her head back and closing her eyes. "You're going home and taking a nap," I say, refusing to back down from that one. It was either that or she would end up falling asleep during dinner tonight or something.

"I'm going to nap," she agrees, nodding her head lightly. "Thank god," she adds and I smile. "What are you going to do all day?" She looks concerned as she watches me. I turn into the development and park the car, turning to meet her gaze.

"Shoot myself?" I suggest sarcastically, well, maybe. "I don't know. Play mediator I guess. Maybe I can...talk to Amber?"

She laughs, probably at the hesitation that had been in my voice, or at the idea itself. "Good luck with that," she replies, making the idea that much more desirable as I consider it. So far, talking and Amber hadn't meshed so well. At first I thought it was just Izzie that she was unhappy with, probably because at our whole unheard of wedding thing, but now it seemed like she was just angry with everyone who moved or breathed, mad at the world really. I knew what that was like, but I somehow still had no clue how to fix it. Had I not of found surgery and Izzie...I'd still be there.

"I shouldn't even bother," I groan, putting my head back on the headrest.

"No, you should," she disagrees, looking thoughtfully out the window. "She needs someone, Alex, and she isn't about to open up to me so you should just...try."

I sigh, knowing she's right but dreading it nevertheless. "Is it terrible I'd rather sit in the car then go inside to our own apartment?" I ask and she begins to laugh.

"I was just thinking the same thing," she answers in confession. This time she's the first one to get out, stretching her limbs as she steps onto the sidewalk, turning to look back at me with an extended hand. I grumble as I get out of the car, taking her hand and making our way up the steps to face whatever we walked into together.

1:16 PM

My talk with Amber had been oddly silent, not filled with much more then, "So, what's up?" and her shrugging in response whilst mumbling a few words about watching TV. I'd ended up spending most of the morning with my mom, trying to talk to her about whatever. We'd discussed my job a lot, she was overjoyed with my being a surgeon, claiming she was proud of me. She was lucid the whole time we chatted, only muttering to herself on and off whenever I stopped talking for too long.

I'd dug out pictures to show the both of them of our wedding, smiling more myself as I looked them over. I'd never forget how happy I was watching her walk down that aisle. I never thought I'd want a wedding or a marriage, and definitely not kids. I had deemed myself the anti-family man long ago, having decided it wasn't for me back when I was about thirteen. My relationships were supposed to be sex filled and short lived as I found fulfillment or joy or whatever in my career. Obviously that had changed.

There was a really great photo that I loved, but was sure Izzie would hate, of her and I. She was in her wedding gown from after the ceremony, sitting and resting for a few minutes before we went and posed for professional photos. The photographer must have decided to start taking candids though, because neither of us were looking into the camera as I knelt down beside her and put and arm around her shoulders, she had her head laying on my shoulder as she stared up at me, smiling. I think I had leaned in for a kiss just moments later.

My mother had been rather impressed by the whole ordeal. It was when she started talking about her own wedding, the one to my dad, that she started to lose it as she yelled at some invisible voice, telling it that it was wrong. Amber had jumped in before I could say a word, and I, like a coward, walked away.

I was about to go check on Izzie when she comes out. She must have been awake for a little while since her scarf was neatly in place and her clothes back on. She kisses me as she wanders into the kitchen. I get up to follow her, knowing Amber was in there now making a sandwich.

"Hi, Amber," Izzie says cheerfully enough. I kind of just wish she'd be a bitch back, give Amber a taste of her own medicine for a little bit.

"Sleep enough yet?" she asks in a nasty tone. I slap my palm against the counter top, getting their attention by the loud noise it made.

"That's it," I say, much like the argument that had started last night when I'd declared I was going to throw her on the street if she said another angry word. She caught my bluff, obviously, and I'd stormed away in frustration, completely unable to deal with it any longer that night. "We're going out to dinner," I declare this time.

Izzie raises an eyebrow at me and Amber rolls her eyes before staring at me like I'm crazy. "Which will fix...what, exactly?" she asks.

"We're going to put on nice clothes, go to a decent restaurant and then sit down and eat a nice, civil meal with one another. End of story," I declare, ripping open the fridge door and pulling out a bottle of water. "You are going to stop acting all super nice and be normal," I say, pointing to Izzie. "And you are going to stop being a bitch to everyone who has the nerve to say two words to you and make some damn pleasant conversation. I don't care if I haven't seen you in six years or not, you're my little sister and right now you're being a pain in the ass. Get it together!" I walk out, leaving the two of them standing there as I throw myself down on the couch next to my mother who is having a conversation with an invisible man named Gerald.

5:19 PM

I knock on the bedroom door, trying to get Izzie moving before we ended up missing our reservation. For whatever reason it was taking her ridiculously long for her to get herself dressed. Even Amber had gotten herself together by now, and she'd moved so slowly I thought we'd still be waiting for her to finish at ten tonight. "You ready, Iz?" I get no response and so I open the door, surprised to find her standing in front of the closet with her hands on her hips and clothing strewn all around the room. "Um, Izzie, I don't know if you know what time it is or not but-" I'm interrupted as an article of clothing comes flying at my head.

"Don't you think I'm trying to get ready?" she says angrily as she pulls out what must be one of the last blouses she has in there and pulls it on. I knew her dilemma then, as the shirt hangs on her. It used to hug her curves and show off her breasts, now it just made her look anorexic. "Nothing fits, Alex. Nothing fits in this whole damn closet."

"It's okay," I try to say calmly and keep her from lashing out anymore. Relaxing might be a good idea on her part right now. "It doesn't matter what you wear," I try and console, picking up her clothes around the room by the armful and setting them all on top of the bed.

"Of course it does. Even you put on a suit," she responds, gesturing to my dress pants and jacket. I had even put on a tie tonight, though I was really starting to regret it now.

"It's just...nothing fits me anymore." She sighs, sitting herself down on the corner of the bed and rubbing the back of her neck. "I'd be better of in Meredith's closet."

"Hm," I say as I stare into our closet myself, finding very little left in there. I go to the pile on the bed, finding her black dress pants and a belt that was laying on the floor and setting them next to her. Next I open the drawers and search for something a bit bulky so it wouldn't be so noticeable to her. I find her long, white sweater with the thick, layered neck and hand it to her as well. Finally I pull out a pair of her dressy flats, not really trusting her occasionally unsteady feet in heels. "Put this on, wear your black and white scarf and let's go before we miss dinner," I direct, kissing her on the cheek before leaving the room. "Don't get me wrong though," I turn back to say. "The whole underwear thing is pretty hot."

7:49 PM

We don't get seated right on time, since we'd been twenty minutes late for our reservation, but we had eventually gotten a table. I'd decided on Bistro, a nice Italian restaurant in the city that was fancy, but not so crowded that you couldn't get a reservation for the night of. The air right now was tense, but I was hoping it would dissolve after we had all decompressed for a little while.

"I got an A on my English essay," Amber offers up first, surprising everyone at the table I think. I hadn't thought my little lecture toward her would work, but apparently it had. Frankly, I was kind of shocked.

"What'd you write about?" I ask a little hesitantly, wanting to encourage her to keep talking without pushing her too far.

"We had some gay assignment on our favorite Christmas as a kid," she said, rolling her eyes, but for once not at someone at the table. "I wrote about the time I got that doll house and you and Aaron played with it with me using your old GI Joe dolls," she said, making us both smile at the memory. She had probably only been five or six at the time, and Dad hadn't been there that year. I couldn't remember where he was, just that none of us had missed him.

"Didn't Aaron break the stair railing or something?" I ask, remembering how she had burst into tears over something.

"Oh yeah," she laughs. "I forgot about that one. God, it made me so angry." She shook her head at the memory and I was utterly appalled at what I was seeing right now. I didn't know it was possible or what had brought it about, but my little sister had just legitimately laughed. I was a little concerned the world would be ending tomorrow.

Our food comes, the waiter places it down in front of us along with refilling our drinks with a pitcher he had brought. He offers to get us anything else we might need and we decline, happy to just take in our meals. Izzie hesitantly begins cutting her's, and I shoot her a look to kind of ask if she's okay. She nods once and smiles, pointing her head in the direction of my sister and raising her eyebrows, clearly as shocked as I was. I just shrug my shoulders in response.

"Did you have any old traditions for Christmas?" Amber asks Izzie. I actually drop my fork in surprise, causing everyone to look over at me before I quickly cover myself and pick it back up, holding it more firmly.

"Um, my mom and I used to bake cookies..." she answers, a little stunned. "And every year we used to go to this Christmas Eve service, which was always nice." She takes a sip of her drink then, and I can't help but chuckle at the look on her face.

"Cool," she responds, no sarcasm or bitterness or ugly looks. I'd said something and it had worked, at least for the time being. It was the closest thing I had ever seen to a Christmas miracle, and I had to say I was pretty damn impressed. "So, has anyone talked to Aaron?"

9:10 PM

We all shuffled into the house as I flip the switch on. My mom had handled the time out surprisingly well. She'd stayed silent for most of it, but did participate in the conversation every once in a while, her and Izzie discussing the wedding pictures I'd showed off earlier. After dinner had been finished we had left to go get ice cream some place a little cheaper, ending up in a Dairy Queen where we looked severely out of place compared to the general jeans and T-shirt people walking around.

Even Amber had gotten dressed up, putting on a dress that I wouldn't have expected her to own. It had a red top to it with a thick, white ribbon separating it from the black knee length skirt of it. Her hair had been pulled back at the sides, hiding the more damaged and chopped up parts and leaving the style to look much cleaner. She had even put on some makeup that didn't make her look like a hooker. I was just all around impressed by her tonight, still a little disbelieving at how...nice she'd been at dinner.

Never once did she lose her temper as she chatted away, talking about school and a couple of her friends and how she'd made the honor roll every semester since starting high school. I learned tonight that she played the violin and read classic books like Faulkner and Mark Twain. She was apart of the editing department for her school newspaper and was in a photography club. What I learned most of all tonight that, had been not just things about her, but how fun and pleasant of a person she could be. In the end, I found that I was legitimately enjoying talking to her, and she was smiling and chatting along with Izzie too. It was like...she was my little sister.

"I'm going to get a bottle of water, anyone want anything?" she asks as she stands in the kitchen doorway, we all respond no as I flop down on the couch, pulling Izzie next to me as my mother wanders off to the bathroom.

"Oh my god," she whispers, her eyes huge as she stares at me in disbelief. "I didn't know all Karev's wore evil spawn masks before being kind people." I laugh as I pull her on my lap and kiss her. " I think I actually like her."

"Right?" I ask, shaking my head at the utter turn around I had seen tonight. "It's almost like she's cool person." She leans in and kisses me, running her tongue along my bottom lip as I respond, pulling back before Amber could walk out to our compromising positions.

"I think we should still get them out of the house sometime soon," Izzie says as she leans back in to continue our little session. "We should just...drop them off for an hour so we can have a little fun."

I kiss her back, incredibly turned on by her suggestion. "Maybe two," I respond, making her giggle. This time I break away for real though, fixing my eyes in a stern look at her. I hear the footsteps leaving the kitchen and pull her off of my lap and next to me on the couch, settling for holding her hand.

The footsteps smack against the hardwood floor, almost sounding angry as Amber walks back into the room, her face all red and angry. Damn it, what happened now?

"What the hell, Alex?" she yells, tears filling her eyes. "You could have at least said something!"

"What are you talking about?" I ask. What could I have said? I didn't know what she was talking about. Had I done something? Had she heard Izzie and I talking about her less the ideal character pre-dinner tonight.

"You know what I'm talking about you lying, stupid bastard." She throws a piece of paper at me, and it hits my chest, which is when I realize that it is not a piece of paper, but a card. I pull it out of the envelope and scan it, finding that it had been signed with nothing else but "Dad."

"I don't even know what this is," I say, flipping the envelope around and seeing it addressed by someone from Kansas. I vaguely remembered having seen the card a week or so ago, only to be distracted by something and never picking me up again.

"Of course you don't," she answers with an eye roll. "He wouldn't just send a fucking card out of nowhere would he?" she demands, her voice getting louder with each word. My mom walks out of the bathroom and is standing behind the couch, staring at Amber. Izzie jumps up and gestures her out to the hall, talking about showing her the balcony lights from outside or something. I wait till they leave until speaking.

"Amber, you have to believe me. I haven't talked to him, I swear." I stand up and meet her stare, pleading with her to just believe me. This couldn't be my fault. She couldn't get mad at me out of nowhere for something I had no part in.

"Why would I believe you?" she asks, crying now as she pulls her clip out of her hair and throws it on the floor. "Why would I ever believe anyone in this damn family about anything? You all lie and cheat and leave and go crazy. I hate you. All of you. And I don't give a flying piece of flying piece of fucking shit about what you say. You aren't my damn brother!"

With that she storms out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

9:23 Pm

"I didn't do anything!" I yell to Izzie as she pulls me into our room, hands on my shoulders. "And I sure as hell never asked him to send me anything." I shake my head, stepping away from her and pacing in the small amount of available space of our room. "I haven't heard a word from the guy in fifteen years. What could he fucking want now? I literally beat him out of the house. Why would he think I wanted anything to do with him?" I'm about to ram my fist into the wall when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "I'm trying, Iz. I'm trying so damn hard here, and nothing is working. Amber hates everyone, my mom's getting worse the more she's here, your miserable, and I just keep fucking trying."

"I know," she says, coming around to stand in front of me and placing her hands on either side of my face. "I know, Alex."

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask, leaning my forehead down to meet her's and closing my eyes, just feeling her breath wash over my face. "I need someone to tell me what to do here." I'd gone far beyond what I had ever thought myself capable of. I had a sick wife, lived every day thinking and wondering if she would get another chance to kiss me or another birthday for me to make her more than a cake. It had taken everything out of me, everyday, over and over as I fought to just convince myself to get up out of bed and face reality. It was hands down the most difficult thing I'd ever done. Now we were here, faced with another situation where I felt I was just wearing myself thinner and thinner every day. And it'd only been three damn days so far!

She kisses me, exhaling as we pull apart. "I'm tired," she sighs pulling me in for a hug. "This has been...a long day, and I slept for most of it." She wastes no time now, stripping into her underwear and pulling off her scarf before pulling on a pair of sweatpants and my sweatshirt before getting into bed, staring at me to do the same. I do, climbing in after her and laying face down in a pillow.

I flop over after a minute, fuming all over again. "Tonight went so well, and I really thought things were going to stop sucking, but now...it's so damn stupid," I say. Izzie had said Amber had gone outside, screamed a few curse words and then stormed back in, my mom not even noticing, apparently. She was now sitting in the bathroom with the shower running and the door locked, preventing anyone else from getting in. Izzie had ended up using a paper towel and the kitchen sink to wash her face off.

"Tomorrow you guys can talk about it and work it out," she suggests, taking her hand and running it along my cheek. She leans in and kisses it, making her way to my jaw. I don't respond as I had earlier, but still kiss her back lightly, just not fully into it right now. Though I did appreciate the offer. Mindless sex would be pretty great right now, but I doubted that would be such a good idea with my sister barely a wall length away from us. "It'll be okay, Alex."

"Talk about something else," I suggest, just like the night before. Our conversation last night had helped, hopefully now would be the same.

"Um, I figured out something I want to do on Christmas. Well, Christmas Eve actually," she says, twirling imaginary designs along my chest as she lays her head down on my shoulder just like every night. "But I don't think anyone else will really care for it."

"What have you come up with now?" I ask, mildly weary as to what her plans were.

"My mom and I," she starts, her eyes looking up to stare at me. "We used to have this...tradition."

"Uh-huh," I encourage. "Does it include shipping impossible family members to distant places?"

She smiles, shaking her head at me. "I know it's stupid and pointless, but I just thought it sounded really nice, especially after my mom mentioned it on the phone yesterday and I was just thinking about it and..."

"You want to go to church, don't you?" I ask, disdain in my voice at the very idea. I'd been to church very few times in my life, having a father who believed in the power of alcohol far above any mystical man in the sky and a mother who could barely remember that the day was Sunday, never mind try and drag us all to church. The only people who had ever taken us had been my grandparents once every three years or so. They'd drag us on Easter Sunday and we'd go sit through some long, boring service in uncomfortable seats, usually at least two of us falling asleep as the pastor went on and on. It had been a strict church, the kind you sit down and shut up in with no laughing or happiness allowed. I hated every second of it, never believing a word of what they said anyhow. I believed in Santa longer than I ever believed in God.

"I know it's dumb, but it was a tradition, you know?"

I sigh, unsure if I'd be able to deny her this. Christmas was her thing, it was what made her happy as she went all out for it every year, and true, I'd already given her a lot of freedom in terms of the holiday and her plans for it, but considering this used to be something between her and her mother and she made a point of wanting to go now, even so much as asking me about it all tentatively in bed, made me want to say yes. "I mean, it might just be you and me."

She looks up at me, smiling as she leans in and kisses me. "Just you and me would be a wonderful tradition," she says and I smile back. Her and I was what was important after all. She'd still be around after fights over Christmas cards sent without my consent and whatever other stupid shit we went through. We would always be those two stuck together, so that was what really mattered, right? I had to admit though, there had been a moment tonight when I had really liked the idea of having a sister too.

**So, it may not show up on fanfiction for another half hour, but I hope you all know that I met my goal and am posting this at 11:49. Yay, for kind of on timeness. Also, you are all the best people, I hope you know that. I had a horrible day and then came home and found all of you saying these completely lovely things about this story and these characters and my writing and you all made my ridiculously happy. You're the best, really. Also, I'm happy you guys were happy with last week's chat.**

**Now, I have had a few people now asking about sequels or what I might be writing next, so I thought I'd just cover everyone and talk about it here. At the end of this story on December 25th there will be an epilogue left, which I will probably upload either on New Year's Day, or briefly before depending on how I feel. Then, I'll probably take a week or so to just have a break from writing. You know, watch some Youtube, play some Zelda, read a book or two. Then, I do have a oneshot idea in mind. At least, I think it will just be a oneshot. We'll see, I may turn it into a full on story. I have had missygreysaddict request that I write something in terms of Izzie and Alex getting back together, which I may try and do if I can find the inspiration for it. If any of you have any thoughts or ideas of stuff you'd like to see in the A/I universe, please just let me know. You never know where real inspiration will strike. Thank you all for your support. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	21. Chapter 21

**There are no words to express how upset and apologetic I am over the fact that I missed two days of updates. I would like to explain that it was not due to my being unwilling to update, or not having the chapter prepared, in fact it was done early that day, around nine, but the lack of update was because of work. In explanation I would like to point out that I am a babysitter, and as such that means I go to someone else's house. Now, usually I will go there Thursday in the afternoon, say about three, and then stay until Friday night. Hence, why my updates were always so early on Thursday, but never on Friday. However, the kids' mother ended up contracting a GI bug, and as such needed someone to come over Wednesday night in order to get the kids to bed and be there in the morning to get off to school. That person was me, of course. **

**I had thought I would be able to get on the internet, intending to find some way to hook my laptop up to their wifi, only once I tried to do it, literally everything crashed. So even when I was willing, and about to, retype this entire chapter onto their own computer, I had no way of being able to. I tried for probably an hour to get the connection on some computer and was just entirely unable to. You all have no idea how much I truly feel bad about this. I had made a commitment to this story and had stuck to it, and it is with my sincerest regrets that I am no apologizing for breaking my commitment.**

**Obviously the chapters have still been written each night, and will now all be uploaded throughout tonight, for anyone willing to read through whatever obscene amount of words that is (I think it's close to 20,000. So, feel free to take breaks lol). I know that there are only two days left after this, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and I have every intention of finishing this out. I am just so very sorry that it could not have been done as I'd intended and worked so very hard to achieve. I hope that, knowing the situation, you all can understand and forgive me and will still continue to read. Once again, sorry for not being on time as I should have.**

Izzie – December 21st 8:21 AM

"I kind of like your family better," I confess to George over the phone. I had called him after Alex had gone to take a shower, too awake to fall back asleep but too unwilling to bother leaving the sanctuary of our room just yet. I didn't know what I might end up facing today, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be pretty, and I didn't know just how much I wanted to deal with it. Drama had always been something I liked hearing about. Only, that was frivolous, petty drama that happened amongst my fellow residents at Seattle Grace Hospital, not intense, painful family drama that included schizophrenic moms and intolerably angry sisters.

I had to admit, Amber had been growing on me that night at dinner. I found her to be really fun and enjoyable as she acted like a normal person and not her previous bitchy self. She was someone I could honestly see myself inviting again or bothering to make a phone call to. The dinner had seemed like just what she needed after Alex had lost his mind at her earlier that day. She literally transformed in a mere two hours pretty much. I hadn't known where it had come from, but I was so damn happy that it had appeared one way or another.

Then we got home though, and all hell broke lose. I had to admit, I wanted to demand a little as to why she was opening our mail, but the I remembered I'd slid my finger underneath the seal of that envelope, opening it, but then giving myself a paper cut and distracting me from ever reading it. So, in her defense, she hadn't opened it, but just read it. Still rude, but not quite so bad. I tried to remind myself to see from her point of view, think of how her mind might land immediately on betrayal and knowing how that could hurt, but with Alex being my husband I was still defensive of him and couldn't entirely understand her.

What I was concerned about was the fact that Alex's father, who neither of us had had any contact with, had managed to obtain our address. I was half tempted to send him back a letter demanding I know, because it seemed awful sketchy to me. Last I knew you couldn't just Google our names and make our address show up online. I kind of wondered if he had called the hospital and had somehow gotten it out of them, explaining he was Alex's father and all, but I still failed to see why he would put that sort of effort in. Like Alex had pointed out, the man had made no attempt at contact in years. Why had that suddenly changed? Would Amber and her mom finding a card when they got home as well? What about his brother Aaron, had he gotten one at all? It just all seemed so strange to me.

"Well my mom still talks about you, if that says anything," George tells me and I smile, thinking of his mother who I couldn't help but just love. The day his dad had died still stuck out in my mind, how she had handled it all, it still impressed me that she lost the very love of her life and still went on every day. I was bad enough after I'd lost Denny, but the very thought of ever losing Alex...it made me have respect for her.

"I love your mom," I declare with a smile. I was actually a little surprised that she still liked me. If I recalled correctly she didn't care for me so much after the whole, cheating and divorce incident. I wasn't about to bring that up now though. Every time one of us mentioned that period of our friendship things got really awkward awful fast. It was best to just avoid it altogether. "So what's on your agenda for Christmas?" I ask. We'd spent so many together it was almost strange, thinking he wasn't going to be there.

"Family, of course." I can almost here his shrug through the phone. "I don't think I'll be missing a holiday with them ever again," he admits sadly. I wondered how much you would regret it, all the time you might have missed with someone you loved because you had been too busy at the time, only to lose the chance to ever spend that time with them again. How much guilt did it bring? I never felt that guilt after Denny died. After all, I'd spent about every second that I could with him.

"Well I hope you enjoy it," I answer, trying to sound chipper and not let him fall into a melancholy state over his dad not being around this year. Alex walks in, towel wrapped around his waste and a handful of dirty laundry that he dumps on the floor in our pile. "I gotta go," I say, knowing that next came the confrontation period of the morning. Maybe we could get out of the house again, there had to be some excuse to use. Speaking of excuses, I needed to find one in order to go buy Alex's Christmas gift. I had still yet to get him a single thing, or come up with an idea of what I could get for him. I'd momentarily considered silverware, as a joke, but that didn't really solve my problem. However, the idea did still make me smile.

"Alright, we still need to exchange gifts," George reminds me, which makes me think how I needed to wrap his gift still. In fact, we hadn't wrapped anyone's gift. All the years previous I had just spread out in the living room some night when everyone was working, turned the tree on and laid out a plate of cookies whilst I wrapped gifts and sang along to Christmas music. The process was a long one, but something I always managed to enjoy it despite the resulting back pain and extra five pound in weight I'll have gained by the end of the night. I wouldn't have the opportunity to do that this year though. If nothing else I needed to wrap my mom's gift and send it out before it got any later. As it was now I'd be paying far extra for faster shipping.

"We'll figure it out," I assure him. "Bye." I hang up as he reciprocates his farewell, and watch as Alex gets dressed. "You know," I say to him which causes him to turn while he pulls his underwear on. "I really wish your family was like, not here right now so I could just pull you into bed and have hot morning sex."

He smiles, a mischievous glimmer in his eye at the mention. "Good god so do I," he answers and I laugh.

"Glad we're on the same page there." I pull myself out from under the covers, ignoring the crisp morning air as crawl my way over to where he stood at the foot of my bed and remain on my knees as I kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Maybe if we're quiet?" I try and suggest, waggling my eyebrows at him in suggestion.

"Do you remember what happened when Amber walked in on us in the kitchen?" he asks, reminding me of her snide comments. I guess having the situation repeat itself, even if she only happened to hear this time, would not be good.

My face falls as I continue kissing him, ignoring reason as I work at trying to seduce him. It really wasn't that hard, seducing Alex Karev, and I'm almost positive I have him as my lips work their way from his shoulder, to his chest, to his pelvic bones, where I'm up close and personal to a sign that tells me he is extremely pleased with this particular morning activity. "Iz, you're gonna kill me," he says as he steps away out of lip reach. I pout and flop back down, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I get maybe two weeks a month where I'm strong enough for such activities," I complain. "And your sister and mother are interfering with them." Maybe I'd be more willing if they had something better to offer in replacement, but so far I had gotten one nice dinner and maybe five minutes decent conversation with his mom, not worth giving up my sex time at all.

"And we will make excellent use of the time we have after they leave," he promises me, leaning over my body and kissing my lips.

"Promise?" I ask, batting my eyelashes at him in dire hope of getting him to give in. I knew it was wasted effort, but a girl could dream.

"You don't need to make me promise," he assures me, kissing me again. "But at this rate we'll never make it out of this, sex or not."

I huff, standing from the bed and finding what I needed to get myself together for the day. I was opting for sweats, not caring anymore about making good impressions or not looking sick. I had no more effort for them, none at all. I'd tried, and it hadn't worked in the slightest, so now I was going back to regular Izzie. Well, regular Izzie plus a scarf because I really didn't like that whole staring deal Amber seemed to do. Plus, I swear Alex's mom wasn't aware I was sick half of the time. She never once said a word about my cancer, which I wouldn't find that strange but when she was talking she would general ask me some questions here and there, as long as she remained here in this world and not distracted by the things around her.

Last night had been frightening as she shouted outside when I escorted her out there and away from the angry, screaming mess that had been Amber. I'd taken her out and she'd been okay for a minute before growing very agitated and shouting. She never turned to hit me, I don't think she was aware I was even there, but she did try and throw herself against the wall, forcing me to attempt and hold her back. I hadn't told Alex, but I hoped he wouldn't notice the few bruises that had appeared on my skin.

I don't even bother changing out of Alex's sweatshirt, which was far too large for me, but made me feel better knowing it was supposed to be. I wrap my old white and pink scarf around my head and walk out of the bedroom and into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. The face in the mirror looks sickly, and I have a momentary compulsion to try and give it a healthier glow, but I know I wouldn't bother if it was just Alex and I, so I wasn't going to bother for his ignorant/crazy family. They probably would hardly notice, let alone care.

I turn to find Alex staring at me from the doorway. He smiles at me as he walks in and kisses me. "You look hot," he tells me and I roll my eyes. This was by far the laziest day I'd had in days in terms of getting myself ready. No real clothes, no makeup, not even bothering to put on a pair of jeans. He would say today of all days that I looked hot, probably to keep from another one of my meltdowns.

"Uh-huh," I respond. Now I'm the one to step away from his kissing and take his hand. "Come on, let's go deal with little Ms. Sunshine," I say, as unwilling as he is, I'm sure. "You know, you could go in to work, if you wanted," I suggest, stopping before we walked out there to discuss the possibility. I could handle them without him. Generally speaking I turn the TV on and his mom's set. Then, I'd let Amber get in a few jabs and she'd be content for the afternoon. If he needed to get away I could do it.

"I'm okay," he answers though, kissing me. "But thanks for the offer, Babe. Would you like to go be admitted to the hospital?" he suggests, and I laugh because it kind of sounds desirable to this. The only people this rude at the hospital were some of the nurses.

"By the end of today we might both land in the psych ward," I joke. I literally felt a little bit crazy by the end of the day around here right now. I wanted to cry and puke and sleep and have sex, all at once pretty much. If that didn't make me crazy I don't know what did. Because, how often did hungry, nauseated, tired, and horny all go together? Not often, I didn't think.

We walk out into the living room, finding two suitcases lined up by the door, but Alex's mom still snoring away peacefully in her sleep. Amber's in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and twisting an apple around in her hands. She hops down as we walk in, putting the fruit down on the counter. "We're leaving," she declares, leaving no question about it.

"Amber..." he tries to say, but she gives him no chance as she cuts him off.

"I'm having an awful time, Mom's relapsing and you both are miserable." She shakes her head, done with the whole situation, it seemed. "I just want to get out of here, and you want us out. So...let us go."

"I'm not paying for another flight," Alex declares. "And you have no other way of getting home." I watch as they argue, interested to see in which way this would go. I knew no matter how utterly insane they were making me, if there was any chance Alex could begin to rebuild some relationships with them, I would want them here. If he wanted them gone though, I had no problem with letting them go. He could return my Christmas gift to pay for their plane tickets for all I cared.

"Ugh, come on," she says, throwing her hands up in frustration as she turns away from us. "I can't stand being here another minute."

"Then go sit in the hallway," he grumbles as he opens the cupboard, pulling out his box of cereal and pouring it into a bowl. He looks in the fridge, finding nothing to put on it and just sticks his hand in it, dumping a handful into his mouth. "You're staying, that's final," he declares and she storms out dejectedly.

I raise my eyebrows in question at him. Right there had been our opportunity and he'd thrown it away, forcing us into another six days of this great fun we were having. I remembered what I'd said mentally to myself earlier and try to hold on to it as I grab a handful of cereal from Alex's bowl. "We'll just have to make it work, I guess."

2:12 PM

"Black doesn't belong on Christmas wrapping paper," I say determinedly as I grab the paper in Alex's hand and shove it back in the bin, picking out a far more appropriate paper with snowmen and trees. "It's Christmas, Alex. Not a funeral."

"Touchy much?" he asks, sounding a little irritated himself as he picks the black paper back up. "Maybe I'll use this to wrap your gift," he comments, twirling it in his hands like he was really thinking about it. I wouldn't be surprised if he did, actually. I take the one I have in my hand and use it to hit him in the head, unable to stop my giggling as I do so. "Seriously?" He raises an eyebrow at me. "Is that how it's gonna be?"

He raises his own and I make a run for it, ducking into the next aisle over and ignoring the dirty looks an older shoots us as Alex follows after me, making me let out a squeal as I dart away again. I'm sure we look like a couple of ten year olds, running through the store, attacking each other with rolls of wrapping paper, but we'd had days of depressing conversations and degrading comments. We needed to be ten for five minutes.

Turning the next corner I turn to look behind me, finding Alex awfully close as he reaches out and hits my arm, steering clear of my head from the wound still present from my surgery. We laugh as I stick my tongue out at him and he wraps his arms around me from behind, kissing my cheek. One man is staring at us like we're crazy, and shakes his head as he walks away, at the other end of the aisle there's a younger girl watching us, who, as she gets closer, I realize is none other than, who else but, Hannah Roberts. I didn't know what I'd done to piss off the universe, but I was being repaid in full, apparently.

"You guys look like you're having fun," she says, raising her eyebrows at us and the wrapping paper swords still remaining in our hands. "I wish my mom would let me have this much fun." She rolls her eyes and, almost right on cue, her mother comes around the corner and walks over to Hannah, sticking a pack of bows in the basket she carried. "Look who I found, Mom," she says, smiling brightly.

Her mother looks up and smiles at Alex and then turns to look at me. I don't think it registers at first, just who I am, as she holds her hand out for me to shake in greeting, pronouncing her name as "Rachel Roberts." I was sure I looked different with no hair, and it had been a couple of years, but as she looks at me more when I go to lean in and shake her hand, it suddenly disappears from my grasp, flying up to meet her mouth as she gasps, legitimately surprised to find me in the city I live in, apparently.

"What is it?" Hannah asks as she turns back to look at me. "Is she on America's Most Wanted or something?" She says this with a smile, which fades as her mother doesn't answer.

"You-you too?" she asks, shaking her head as she takes in my appearance. I was still makeup free and sweat pant bound, hardly the vision of health.

"Do you know my mom or something?" she asks, turning away from her still unresponsive mother and looking to me. I open my mouth to respond, but find I have no words to offer her. Did I lie? Tell the truth? Walk away? This was a situation where there was no answer, no simple response. So I just looked at her, mouth still open to talk. Even Alex has no words as he looks between the two of us, his arms still wrapped around my waist. "Is anyone going to explain?" She throws her free hand in the air in frustration.

"Hannah, we need to go," her mom says, placing a hand on her back to try and direct her daughter away.

"Wait!" I yell, even though they hadn't even stepped away yet, Hannah still staring at me in question. I stop them because I know I can't from this anymore, it couldn't just be shoved aside any longer. Obviously someone was trying to tell me something as I ran into her over and over again. Call it what you wish, karma, fate, destiny, whatever word you stuck with it, it was telling me one thing, and I had a feeling it wouldn't stop until I followed through. "Please just, wait."

I step out of Alex's embrace, taking a few steps so I stand in front of Hannah. She stares up at me, confusion still in her eyes. Her mom looks confused on what to do, stuck between desperation to protect her child and get away, and feeling the same thing I was, a compulsion to tell the truth. I didn't doubt Hannah was strong enough to handle this. She was a tough girl, and if I'd learned anything with cancer, it was that once you faced that, you could handle just about anything.

"Yeah?" she asks, prompting someone to say something since it looked like everyone around her knew what was going on and she didn't. Which, was exactly true. "Am I in trouble?" She sounds worried.

"No," I reassure quickly. "Definitely not. Um, Hannah," I say ignoring the people around us and the fact that I still had gift wrap in my hand from chasing my husband around the store minutes earlier. "You know how, how I act all weird, whenever you see me?" I ask, because it was so true. My jaw locked, my mouth dried, my brain fried, all while I tried to process and handle.

"Yeah, you're always all, awkward and like you're trying to run away before I murder you or something."

"Exactly," I respond, though I still hadn't explained a thing.

"Er, are you getting to the reason for that or something?" she asks, cocking her head to the side as she waits, trying to evaluate me, I guess. "Or are we all going to keep standing here staring at each other?"

"Hannah," her mom interjects. "Maybe we should go." I could see the worry in her eyes as she stares at her daughter. I saw that look all the time when I caught Alex staring at me. He did it when he was evaluating how strong I was, how much longer I could carry on before he needed to make me go rest or if he needed to wrap an arm around me to keep me standing. Her mom was just looking out to make sure Hannah wouldn't be needing any help standing.

"I want to know what's so terrible that no one can tell me anything. And how do you two...know each other," she pauses, looking between the two of us and then staring at me, a hand reaching out and touching my face, right along my cheek bone. "I've only been to Seattle once before in my life," she whispers, her head shaking. I had to admit, I was kind of relieved that she seemed to be figuring this out on her own. "And we came here to find my...birth mom."

Swallowing hard I meet her stare, watching the comprehension in her eyes as she nods. I feel Alex hover behind me, on the lookout for my well being, I was sure. I'm surprised when she stands on her tiptoes and pulls my scarf off, revealing the same, shiny bald head as her's. Her fingertips run across it, much like Alex's would sometimes at night. "Wow," she whispers as she stares. Then it's like all the mystical feeling vanishes and reality catches up. I knew the moment would be coming and I await the reaction.

She takes a few steps back from me, shaking her head. "Did you know?" she asks as she turns to Alex, the look of betrayal in her eyes. "All this time, did you know?" Tears fill her eyes as she stares at the doctor who she had deemed her friend.

"No," he answers quickly. "Not this whole time," he's trying to salvage something that had probably already been ruined. She was young, her trust easily broken, and obviously very sensitive on this topic, as anyone in her situation would be.

"But you did know," she says. "Before today, you knew?" She wipes at her face as a tear falls, and doesn't wait for an answer before turning to her mother. "Did _you_ know?" she demands.

"Of course not," she answers, trying to pull her daughter in for a hug. _Her_ daughter, I remind myself. That's who Hannah was, Rachel Roberts daughter. "I wouldn't ever keep something like that from you, sweetie."

"You just tried to," she reminds her of just seconds ago as she tried to usher her out of the store without a word. "You're all a bunch of liars, apparently." She shakes her head and her gaze goes back to me. "I've talked to you, what, three times and I didn't even know it?" I understood the feeling, as every time I ran into her and thought how that wasn't supposed to be our first conversation, or the second, or the third.

"I'm really sorry," I try and say, making the mistake of taking a step toward her. She steps back immediately, almost like I was threatening her. I remembered the same shock I felt the day I saw Hannah for the first time, along with the betrayal I felt from Alex. I couldn't imagine dealing with that same feeling at fourteen. I wished she didn't have to. "Someone should have talked to you. A long time ago."

"Yeah," she agrees sadly as she turns and stares at Alex, who is staring down at the ground before meeting her disappointed gaze. "_Someone_ should have." She sighs, shifting her basket from one hand to the next as she looks over the three of us, closing her eyes like she's thinking really hard for a second before turning and leaving, not running, but I know there's no way I'll be catching her to say anything else I might have wanted to.

3:36 PM

"You okay?" Alex asks as we walk up the stairs to the apartment. After Hannah had stormed off I'd stood in the aisle staring for a bit longer before digging the keys out Alex's pocket declaring he, "get whatever he wants" and walking away to go sit in the car. He had somehow managed what had been taking us twenty minutes before, in about five minutes as he came back to the car with three bags in hand, tossed them in the back, and then climbed up front, sitting silently with me until I declared he should drive me home.

We hadn't talked yet, probably why he was bringing it up now, before we ventured into the house and Amber went and said something that would make me burst into tears. "I'm good," I declare, feeling mentally stunted still, but not upset or angry or anything. Just...lost. I'd be fine in an hour or so, mainly I just felt kind of bad for the poor girl and the bomb that had kind of just dropped and exploded on her life just then. I didn't know what it felt like to be adopted, but it had to be hard thinking that the person who gave birth to you just...didn't want you. I was desperate still to explain that that wasn't even close to the truth, but I had known then was not the time and quite frankly, I didn't know if I'd be getting another opportunity.

"Sure?" he asks on last time before putting the key in the lock. I nod my head and he swings the door open, revealing his mom laying face down on the couch, crying. Great, just what we needed to come home to. I sigh, shutting the door behind us and kicking off my shoes as Alex goes over to try and talk to his mom. My eyes scan the room, searching for an angry looking adolescent.

"Amber?" I call quietly as I wander into the apartment. She hadn't actually left, had she? I could only imagine the trouble she would go and get herself into out there. This was Seattle, after all. Not exactly the safest city around, and she was upset and irrational right now, making the idea of her wandering around out there all the more frightening. Of course, she could have always just stolen some cash and gone to book her own flight or get a bus to take her home.

I peek into the bathroom first, knowing that where she had gone last night. I don't see anyone though, even going as far as to pull back the shower curtain and look. Next I open the hall closet, rolling my eyes as I look in at the mess in there. That must have been what happened when I sent Alex to clean. It was better than the pillows and lamps he'd picked out, at the very least. Lastly, I peer into our bedroom, sure enough finding her sitting there. Her back is pressed up against our headboard as she sits on Alex's pillow with her knees drawn to her chest.

She doesn't glare at me as I walk in, surprisingly enough, doesn't even have anything nasty to say as I sit down next to her. We're both quiet for a moment, and then I look over and see the blood coming out of the side of her head. "Oh my god!" I say, reacting immediately as I go to the bathroom and grab paper towels, hydrogen peroxide, and some gauze. I wet a washcloth as well before returning to the room and beginning to wash it out of her hair. Thankfully I looked like it was mostly dry and had stopped for most part, appearing more like a slow trickle now.

"I think I got some blood on the sheets..." she murmurs, looking down and picking up a piece of the sheet with a large blood stain on it. The pillowcase also had several blood drops spattered across it.

"Don't worry about it," I say, patting her hand away from the bloody sheet and moving her hair out the way to get a better look at the wound. "Good news is you won't need stitches, I don't thing," I inform her, trying to smile and keep her at ease as I had so many times before with patients. I knew she wasn't sitting here thinking about pain though, it was probably the farthest thing from her mind as I pour the hydrogen peroxide onto the gauze and begin to clean the wound. "I don't want to put this in your hair," I say. "It'll-"

"Bleach it," she finishes, obviously knowing her stuff. She shrugs, "I don't really care."

"I'll just go get soap and water, okay?" I ask, moving to stand again, but she grabs my arm, holding me in place. "It can wait," I say instead now and sit down next to her. I hesitate before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She doesn't shove me away or yell or say anything rude, like I expected. Instead, she goes against all of my general expectations as she lays her head against my shoulder and cries her heart out. She just sobs and sobs, trying to just get her breath in and out as she cries.

"Shh," I soothe, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. "It's all okay," I reassure best I can as I rock her gently from side to side. It was like all of a sudden she just...broke. All of that hard exterior and rude front she'd put on, it all fell to pieces as she weeps against me. I can't help the surge of pity and affection I feel for her, knowing she must feel like the weight of the world is on her shoulders from what she goes through each day. I'd felt like many days I was raising my mother as she bounced around irresponsibly, never bothering to check my grades or cook me dinner and then doing things like gambling away my college money. But to be caring for a schizophrenic mother every day of your life, that was something far beyond my comprehension.

"I-I don't want to hate her," she cries, probably feeling guilty from the resentment she feels toward her mother. It made sense, considering the state of her right now. I resented my mother for years and years, and were I to still live with her today, I probably still would.

"It's okay," I promise her. No one would judge her for a little anger at her mother. Actually, Alex and I both had, but I knew from here on out I would be seeing her differently. She wasn't some ungrateful bitch like she seemed. She was a sixteen year old kid trying to keep her mother alive and go to school and live a life. It wasn't easy, and it shouldn't be expected of her.

"And I don't hate you," she confesses, her voice calming as she stops heaving heavy sobs and begins with just a gasp of breath every few seconds as she tries and controls her crying. "It's just, Alex left us, you know? He left us because he said he couldn't take care of Mom and live his life. That he needed to get away from all of it and just not turn back, which is exactly what he did. Only now he's here, taking care of you, and it makes me feel like his family wasn't worth the effort, but his colleague was? I wasn't worth sticking around for or visiting or making a phone call? He just...walked out and never turned back."

I knew why Alex had done that, I knew that it really was what he had needed to do, but that was a conversation for between the two of them, so I'd leave it at that. "Your brother feels very guilty about not having seen you grow up," I divulge instead. She sniffles and pulls away to look at me.

"Really?" she asks, wiping her nose with her sleeve as it continues to run. "He never calls, just sends Mom's pills. I almost thought...I kind of just thought he'd forgotten about me."

"He feels guilty and so he avoids having to face that by not talking to you," I explain. "Only the longer he waits the guiltier he gets and it's like a never ending, vicious circle." She smiles, obviously seeing my reason in the matter. "He carries around a lot of guilt for a lot of things, Amber. And it's hard for him to so much as talk about his family because he feels like he messed up so bad and he doesn't know how to face it."

"Mom is the one who messed up," Amber claims. "Dad messed up more. But Alex? He just...he tried really hard when I was a kid. I remember that, but then one day he just stopped trying."

"It's not because he doesn't love you or think about you," I make sure to stress again. "But you have been pretty insufferable to be around since you got here," I point out, shaking my head at all of her impossible moments. "Like beat-our-heads-against-walls level insufferable."

"Sorry about that," she apologizes, smiling at my imagery. "I was just so...angry, and it was all directed at my brother, and you for marrying him, and him for marrying you. It just, it went on and on and I couldn't do anything but be rude and angry all the time."

"I get it," I assure her, pulling her back against me like a small child. "Trust me, I get that it sucks."

"I'll do better," she promises, sounding almost like she's talking to herself more so than to me. "I'll do a lot better. I'm not really that awful of a person all of the time." I knew that, I'd seen her at dinner last night, when she'd been far less like a demon and much more like a pleasant, fun teenage girl. "I mean, I don't know how much better it will really be, but I'll try."

"Someone who doesn't hate my guts or storm around sulking is all we're asking for here," I point out. There's a quick knock on the door before Alex pokes his head in, giving us and our position a curious look.

"Is everything...okay?" he asks, looking awkward at the sight of two crying girls in front of him. He'd just dealt with one, hardly need anymore.

"I was just cleaning up Amber's cut here," I say as I take the washcloth and clean the wound again, finishing the dressing once I'm pleased with my work. "It shouldn't leave a scar."

"Thanks," she answers with a smile. "How screwed up is Mom?" she asks Alex bluntly. He just shrugs his shoulders in response, probably not the best sign. "Do you mind if I talk to Alex, Izzie?" she asks me, turning her head to look at me. I'm surprised by how drastically different she looks once her makeup has been removed. She looked far more childlike and innocent, less hard.

"Of course," I stand and open our closet with the bucket full of gifts, as well as grab some wrapping paper. "I'm going to start working on this mess." I smile inspite of myself, I would make the most of wrapping gifts this year, even if I couldn't have the living room to myself with a plate of cookies next to me and Christmas music blaring.

"Wait," Alex calls, stopping me and pulling his mom's gifts out of the bin. "Probably shouldn't wrap them in front of her," he shrugs and I smile, kissing him on the cheek before walking out. Maybe things didn't have to be so awful this year.

7:57 PM

"Dinner!" I call as I pull the lasagna out of the oven. Alex's double oven idea was sounding better and better as I had been hoping to make some cookies tonight as well. It wasn't like we had a tone more time to be making cookies in the shape of Santa heads and reindeer, at least, not with a decent excuse.

"Thank god," Alex murmurs as he walks into the kitchen, sticking his finger in some of the sauce on top and licking it off before I can stop him. "This is good," he comments, gesturing to the homemade sauce I'd prepared. Had I not gone so...overboard perhaps we would have eaten a few hours ago. But once I decided I was going to prepare dinner tonight, I knew I just had to go all out on it.

"She cooks too?" I hear his mother mutter as she walks into the kitchen, stopping and taking in the aroma. I had to admit, it smelt pretty damn good. I was sure I'd enjoy the taste of it too. "You did even better than I thought in the first place, Alex," she says with a smile, having recovered from this afternoon's debacle, whatever it was that might have happened. She had drifted out of her episode after about an hour, turning back into a sweeter, kinder version of herself who was still depressed, but at least functioning. Amber hadn't said much to her, but when she had spoken it wasn't too rude, at least not when one considers that it's Amber.

Alex holds his dinner plate out to me, directing me to cut him bigger and bigger slices until I decide to choose for myself, before he ate half of my pan. "Bread's on the counter," I say, pointing with my spatula over to the garlic bread I'd made in the toaster oven that now sat in front of it, a lovely shade of golden brown.

"How much time did you spend on this?" Amber asks as she takes in the dish, which looked more complex than an average lasagna.

"Izzie doesn't go halfway on anything," Alex answers, his mouth already full of a bite of garlic bread as he stands in the kitchen.

I swat him with the pot holder. "No eating till we're all sitting down together," I lecture sternly with a pointed finger. He turns away dejectedly to go sit at the table with his mother. "How big?" I ask, as I Amber holds her plate out.

"Huge, I haven't eaten all day," she comments and so I cut her a piece only a little smaller than her brother's before serving my own. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that this dinner could be good after all, and go sit down with everyone else.

Alex stares at me, desperately awaiting my permission to eat. I nod and he carves in immediately, behaving like a starving African child. "Ew, Alex," I say and roll my eyes. Did I need to be teaching him table manners too? I kick him under the table in order to get him to slow down.

"What?" he asks, mouth full and spaghetti sauce all around his lips. "You're the one who made me wait until eight at night."

"Yeah, well had your impatient ass had its way you'd be eating pizza leftovers instead of this," I point out, ignoring the fact that his sister was eating pretty much the same he had been. Obviously it was just a family trait they'd both managed to inherit.

"It's really good, try some," he mother says to no one, hardly getting any more than a glance from us as we continued eating.

"Oh, so Izzie had some brilliant plans for Christmas Eve," Alex says, sarcasm evident in his tone as he takes a break from devouring his food long enough to have a drink of his beer.

"We're not gonna go caroling or something, are we?" Amber asks with a nose wrinkled in distaste. I had to admit, had I thought of it earlier I might have just suggested it. It was so fun! But clearly no one would be going for it. After all, look at who my husband is.

"No, we're not going to go caroling," I roll my eyes. "Actually, I was thinking we could follow one of the traditions I always used to do as a kid and go to a little church service somewhere," I suggest, looking around the table to gauge reactions.

"No church," Alex's mom answers immediately with a shake of her head. "I can't...you can't make me!" She isn't looking at me anymore and I sigh as we all tense up, ready to intervene if needed.

"I'll go, but I'm not praying, kneeling, or doing any hail Mary's," Amber explains clearly. "I'll sing some Christmas songs, take a nap while the old guy talks, and then we get to come home and open a gift."

"You're very precise, aren't you?" Alex asks as he shakes his head. "But don't worry about it. I'll go, you stay home with Mom." I forgot that we weren't able to just leave her here. It seemed kind of silly, really. After all, she stayed home alone all day while Amber was at school or whatever. But I knew how it worked, the unfamiliarity of the place coupled with her being alone could trigger just about anything from her mind, and we would all like to avoid that.

"We'll figure it out," I say, dismissing the subject with a smile. "Now, who wants to help me bake cookies after dinner?"

10:12 PM

Despite my very persuasive argument on the joys of baking no one had actually been all the willing to assist. Well, until they came out of the oven. Then they were all very willing "taste testers" for me. I stepped out of the shower now, having just washed about a pound of flour and cookie dough off of me. It felt nice to be clean again.

I walk from the bathroom to our bedroom in my towel, finding Alex already asleep in bed. He was still fully dressed and on top of the covers, but he was clearly asleep as he snored lightly. I felt bad, realizing just how tiring the past few days had been for him as well as me. Maybe even more so considering all the mediating he had done, and was still doing, amongst his family members.

Amber wasn't the queen of kindness now, but her attitude toward me and Alex had been much like the night before at dinner. She generally just didn't look or speak to her mom just now, but when she did talk it was...civil almost, her tone cold but her words basic enough.

I pull on my pajamas and work on undressing Alex as I could, just like so many nights he had done for me. I pull of his socks, tossing them onto the floor, and then unbutton and zip his jeans. He wakes up at some point, and just slides them off, tiredly sitting up as he peels of his shirt and throws it to the ground as well. I get him to move so we can pull the covers down and then we climb in together.

I snuggle into him like every night and his kisses the top of my head. "Love you," he murmurs as he yawns and closes his eyes.

"Love you too," I answer simply. "I'm glad things are turning around some," I say happily, and probably to myself considering the likelihood of him having fallen back to sleep. I just lay there with him, slowly beginning to drift off as his arms tighten minutely around me. I wasn't dreaming about the future so much right now, just grateful to be where I am right now.

"Me too," he finally whispers back, drawing a smile onto my face.

**Originally I had something else written here, but I just wanted to apologize again and also make sure you know that the other two chapters will be up within the next few hours. What really upsets me over this, is the fact that just before, I had gone and checked my email and found just tons of support coming from all of you in your reviews. It was definitely sufficient to keep me writing and I can't thank you enough for it. Okay, on to the original AN.**

**Let's discuss sequels, shall we? I know last chapter we kind of went over this, however many of you still seem to be requesting that I write a full on sequel story as opposed to just an epilogue. Considering those of you who have been asking for this, as well as getting some lovely suggestions from LoveLexzie on plot lines, I thought I would see what the rest of you thought when asked directly. Should I write an epilogue, call this story done and move on to something new? Or would you like to see the return of this A/I and have me continue with a full fledged, not Christmas based, sequel. Let me know and based on your opinions and my own inspiration (that one gets a pretty good vote) we will go from there. Official announcement to follow. Oh, and I am sure you all enjoyed the beginning of today's story ;) Thanks again. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	22. Chapter 22

Alex – December 22nd 6:02 AM

I feel like I'm still stuck in a dream as I roll over, trying to find the source of this obnoxious banging sound that I kept hearing. "What the hell?" I ask as I roll over, wanting it to stop so I could go back to sleep already.

"Mm, you get it," Izzie murmurs from next to me, jabbing her elbow in my general direction to try and get me up. It shouldn't hurt but since it was so bony it was like being stabbed.

"Cut it out," I grumble, blindly flopping my hand around to get her to quit it. "What's that sound?" It paused and then started again, only it seemed to be increasing in sound.

"Someone's knocking at the door," Izzie explains. "Go get it." She tries weakly to literally push me out of bed, shoving against my shoulder with her hand a couple of times.

"Why the hell is someone knocking on our door before the sun's up?" I groan, rolling my face into the pillow and leaving my eyes shut. "You go. You're scary looking in the mornings, make them go away faster," I try to rationalize. I swear, I couldn't even feel my limbs yet I was so tired.

"Have you ever smelt your breath first thing in the morning? That's pretty effective too." The noise stops, and we both breathe a sigh of relief. She curls back up against me and we both close our eyes. I swear even though it's only been about thirty seconds I've nearly fallen asleep again when the pounding begins again.

"I swear to god who ever this is better be fucking dying," I mutter as I get out of bed, ignoring the smug smile I can see on Izzie's face despite it being dark as I walk out of the bedroom. My mom's awake and sitting up on her couch bed, but looks confused as she cocks her head at me as I walk out. Amber was currently no where in sight. Maybe she'd been stupid enough to lock herself out.

"What?" I grumble as I pull the door open, hoping it wouldn't be some innocent girl scouts considering I was in nothing but my underwear. They should expect that if knocking on people's doors at six in the morning. "Have you not seen a clock?"

"Well hey big brother. I heard there was a Karev family reunion and no one even bothered to invite me. I'm a little offended." I watch, now far more awake and most likely with a gaping mouth as he pushes past me and into the living room, a smile on his face and his arms held open. "Hey Ma," he says.

"What are you doing here, Aaron?" I ask before anyone else can say anything. He was right. I hadn't invited him. Aaron and I had always gotten along when we were younger, acted like brothers and all, but still had this sort of bond formed from Dad's addictions and abuses and Mom's craziness. Amber was too young to understand, so it was often like the two of us against the world. As we got older though, that slowly began to change. Aaron started resenting how I would stand up for him to Dad, like I was declaring him weak because of it. I started getting frustrated with his careless behavior of leaving a sock on the stairs or a cup in the sink. It was the very thing I did all day, clean up that sort of shit in order to keep Dad happy, and it was like Aaron just didn't care at all what the man thought. He complained, argued, and fought back with me everyday, declaring I wasn't his father and couldn't tell him what to do.

It was frustrating, to say at the very least, to know I'd been running around trying to do everything I could to keep everyone as happy as they could be, only to deal with that attitude everyday. I learned quickly it was impossible to please everyone, eventually just moving on to not bothering to try and please anyone.

"Aaron!" Amber shouts as she walks out of the kitchen, her own hair disheveled. She darts off for him, throwing her arms around his neck as he spun her around once. "What are you doing here?"

"Eh, thought you guys could use some lightening up," he answers as he turns and examines the apartment. He lets out a low whistle, probably at the furniture that was throughout. I'd been told by quite a few people now that it was no cheap furniture. "This is nicer than where we grew up. I should've done some of this doctoring stuff."

"You need brains for that job," I jab, annoyed that he was just standing in my apartment without so much as asking me if I minded. Hell, don't even ask, but at the very least he could have called me.

"What's going on?" Izzie asks, coming out of the bedroom finally, looking like she'd fall asleep standing. I could say she had put a scarf on before coming out though, so she was at least that awake.. I was sure Amber's squeal had gotten her up. Both because of the loud, high pitched nature of it as well as the rareness of the noise. "Is that your brother?" she whispers through a yawn to me as we stand together. I'm sure that I don't look very happy with my arms crossed against my chest.

"Yep," I answer dryly, shaking my head as he sat down next to Mom and just started chatting away about life on the road. Apparently, in the six years I'd been gone he had managed to get a job as a trucker, going from state to state making deliveries and living off of fast food and Ho Hos. I was so proud.

"And this must be Ilene," he says, trying to give Izzie a charming smile as he shakes her hand. She raises an eyebrow at him, probably annoyed with wrong he'd gotten her name and the fact that he'd woken her up at six in the morning. She had threatened my life more than once for waking her up, and I was her husband.

"Izzie," she corrects, her tone just as short as mine had been. Good to know she didn't appreciate unwelcome guests either. "You must be Eric." I'm just about positive that she did that on purpose, as a payback for the whole "Ilene" deal. She really didn't even look like an Ilene.

"Aaron, actually," he corrects her before turning to me. "Come on, don't tell me no one ever talks about me around here."

"We generally avoid unpleasant conversation," I answer bitterly, despite it not really being the truest statement. Unpleasant conversations had been daily occurrences this month, between my family, Hannah, and our general nature they happened pretty often.

Izzie's eyes dart between the two of us, trying to decipher what's going on, I'm sure. "So...how'd you get here?" she asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow. It was more like her questioning, "Who invited you and how do you know where we live?" but in fewer words.

"I was driving through with a delivery and thought, since everyone else is here, I should come by too." He smiles, like anyone was actually pleased he was here or had taken it upon himself to show up. It bothered me, him showing up all fine and dandy when we hadn't said a word to each other in years. I know that last part was technically my fault, but screw that. Maybe there was a reason I never spoke to any of them.

"Well won't you get in trouble if it's late?" Translation: "Don't you have to leave pretty soon then?"

"It won't kill anyone if I miss a day," he shrugs, pretty much having just invited himself to stay the night. "We can just blame it on Christmas traffic, right?"

Izzie and I exchange hesitant glances. What did you say to that really? I might have spoken up actually, been the jerk who sent his own brother away right before Christmas, but my mom was smiling and hugging him and Amber had this excited glow in her eyes. So even though I couldn't stand my family, I had somehow ended up surrounded by the whole bunch of them for Christmas, and never with any of my consent exactly. And I couldn't kick them out because...well, they're family.

9:11 AM

"You should go back to bed," I tell Izzie from where we stand, hiding out in the kitchen. She was, of course, baking up a storm, wanting to have plenty of cookies for Christmas, and I was, supposedly "helping." Thankfully none of them knew me too much, allowing that lie to work with only minimal amounts of teasing.

"Can you get another bag of flour out?" Izzie asks me, wiping her forehead with her arm and smearing ingredients along it. She was one of the messiest bakers I knew, always thinking that the way they portrayed those guys on TV was exaggerated. Obviously not though, considering what my wife looked like for most of the Christmas season.

I get it out and open it for her, setting it next to the bowl she was stirring dough in and sticking my finger in for a lick. She glares at me, but I hold up my hands in mock surrender and claim it as my "payment." She rolls her eyes and stifles a laugh. "And I'm not tired right now."

"Really?" I ask, finding that hard to believe. "I'm pretty much exhausted." Between being woken up at six in the morning to someone knocking on our door, to just who it was that had been standing out there, I'm sure it was simple enough to imagine why. So far I hadn't really seen him much, after the initial small talk. Izzie had vanished to the kitchen, having the superb excuse of baking, and I had latched on to it as well. I also swore to myself that this was the last time I ever invite my family to visit. Next time Izzie and I could go there, get a hotel, and then leave when we wanted. This whole...being helplessly stuck with them was making me suicidal.

"Well then you go back to bed," she suggest. As though it was really that simple.

"I don't have cancer," I explain, obviously making it rude for me to go and sleep when we had company if I was perfectly healthy. It was a different story if you were sick and weak. I mean, who denies a cancer patient the right to sleep? Whether they have freaking family visiting them or not.

"Yes...you don't," she answers with a shake of her head, like I was losing it. "It will be fine." She says it like she means it, that she doesn't doubt the fact at all as she turns her vision away from her cookie dough and to my eyes, meeting their gaze and holding it. "It was fine before once things cleared up, and we'll get through this and back to the fine as well."

I nod, trying to agree with her. "Where'd he get our address?" I ask, wondering if the thought that had passed through my mind had been entertained in her's as well. The idea wasn't totally crazy, was it? In any case I'd end up being Amber's favorite brother if it were true. "Because I can think of someone else who had our address that shouldn't of."

She sighs, not answering me at first. "Let's just...not expect the worst, okay?" she suggests with a smile, trying to keep the mood lighter. "I mean, we all saw the very obvious worst in Amber and look she seems to have turned out? Just, give him a shot for the twenty four hours he's here."

"Alright, alright," I surrender, knowing she was playing a wife card and I would just have to submit to it and listen to her words of wisdom.

"However, if he calls me Ilene again, I think it would be fair enough to throw him out on the street."

12:03 PM

"Hey, Alex?" Amber says as she pokes her head into the kitchen, where I had insisted on staying after Izzie surrendered and went to go nap. She had given me strict directions to keep my cookies far from her's and to not burn the house down, obviously trusting me in a kitchen as much as I trusted myself.

"Yeah?" I ask, too focused on trying to transfer an equal amount of dough to the tray on each cookie. They were all different sizes on the last one which, it turns out, causes some to burn and others to not cook all the way through. Now I was attempting to rectify that and see if they tasted any better when done right. Probably not.

"Um, we were going to go out and get lunch, you know, 'cause Aaron has something to drive in. Did you and Izzie want to come?" I almost laugh but stop myself. Did we want to come? Hm, I'd have to think long and hard about that one. I had only spent the last three hours standing in a kitchen in order to avoid them, but sure, let's all go have a happy family dinner together.

"Nah, I'll let Izzie sleep," I answer instead, grateful to get in on my wife's excuse right now. Nothing gets you out of a tight spot like the cancer card. "Do you and Mom need some money though?" I ask, shoving my hand into yesterday's pants and trying to see if I had any dollars I could fish out and give her. I think there was a twenty in one of the pant pockets I'd worn recently.

"Don't worry about it. Aaron's buying," she explains, taking one of the cookies I'd just made and taking a bite out of it. She makes a face, spits it into a napkin and then tosses the whole thing in the trash, going for one of Izzie's instead this time. "Maybe you should stick to helping from now on," she suggests before leaving. I sigh in relief when I hear the front door slam.

The oven is turned off, the ends of my cookie dough scraped into the trash, and my pot holders, thankfully, discarded as I leave the god awful kitchen of ours and make the way to our bedroom. With them gone I needed no excuse to nap, and laying down with Izzie and forgetting all the crap in the day sounded pretty damn good to me.

Surprisingly enough, she's still awake when I walk in though, flipping through a Christmas catalog. Of course. "Still looking for my gift, are you?" I ask, with a raised eyebrow. I'm expecting her to smile and roll her eyes, but instead she gets a worried look in her eye. Which kind of answered my question. "Really, Iz? There's only three days till Christmas."

"You're hard to buy for!" she whines, tossing the catalog away in frustration. "And every time I think of something you might like I just see Meredith's smug face as she tells me what a brilliant gift she'd found for Derek."

"I'm not that hard to buy for," I mutter as I lay on top of the covers next to her.

"All the suggestions I've gotten from people were beer and sex." I chuckle as she crosses her arm over her chest. She glares at me as I laugh, which just makes me laugh harder. "It's not funny."

"Okay fine, you think you're so easy?" I raise my eyebrows in challenge, ready to compare who had been more difficult to find something for. "You literally said you wanted nothing for Christmas. Nothing aside from help in cooking from Meredith."

"It was _you_!" she exclaims, pointing an accusing finger against me chest. "Alex Karev, I never knew you'd sink to such levels." She shakes her head as though she's disappointed in my actions.

"At least I still managed to get something even though you gave some lame ass answer about being thankful." She groans as I remind her, flopping her head back against the headboard. I move my hand to cushion it in case she makes the oh so wise decision to do it again. Did all memories of recent brain surgeries just vanish from her mind or something? "Get us dragged back to the hospital for brain contusions why don't you?" I ask sarcastically.

"Might be better than you acting all weird with your brother," she grumbles, picking her catalog back up off the floor and flipping through it again. Like I would ever want something out of a catalog... "I mean, we've just started to get along with Amber and have your mom relax and now you're all tense and awkward. It's tiring, Alex."

"Oh yes, it's tiring for you," I roll my eyes, irritated with her response. Was she the one who had deal with her fucked up family? Did she have to keep a teenager happy, crazy mother sane, and now welcome an uninvited ass of a brother into her home? I think not. "I'm sorry. I forgot how terrible it was for you to have to deal with my family. Not like you invited them or anything." I mumble the end bit, causing Izzie to look up at me and glare long and hard. I figure it probably best to start back tracking now. "Sorry."

"Me too," she sighs, scooting over to lay her head on my chest. "I think we need to get them all out of here before we both go crazy." I lean my head on top of her's, turning my head so I can kiss the top of her's. "What are they doing anyhow?" she asks, probably picking up on the silence for the first time since six thirty this morning. My brother was a loud person, plus he told a lot of stories. So essentially he loudly told stories that derived loud laughter. I wouldn't be surprised if Izzie hadn't slept a single second from it all.

"They left," I say, smiling as I realize what I had just said. "They left the house and we stayed." Her eyes look up to mine as her eyebrows raise, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she slowly begins to kiss me.

"Well if your family's not here...and I'm not half dead from chemo..." she trails off, assaulting my lips with her's and immediately beginning to undress herself. I try to slow her down but she shakes her head. "Uh-uh, who knows how long they'll be gone, and I'll be damned if I get cut off again. So I let her take control, as she had so desperately wanted to do for the past week, and allow her to just have her way with me. Which, I had to admit, was pretty damn incredible.

3:28 PM

By the time my family gets home both Izzie and I are in significantly better moods, having indulged on a lacking part of our relationship more than one time, making up for lost opportunities in the past. At some point in the two hours we'd gotten dressed to go eat, both of us sitting in the kitchen in little more than our underwear. Even Izzie didn't bother putting her scarf back on, despite the possibility everyone could have come home. Thank god they hadn't, considering how awkward it would have been, but there was something rejuvenating about getting to use our apartment as though it were truly, only our apartment.

By the time they've gotten back Izzie is in the shower and I've cleaned up the living room, tossing all of my mom's and Amber's things into a corner and folding away the couch, which allowed significant more room in the area. I even go crazy enough as to do the laundry, something no one had touched since we'd moved in. I even bought more underwear to avoid doing it. As the pile got larger, the less motivation anyone had to do it. And as the days went on more, the bigger the pile got. Both Izzie and I were down to the last of our clothing resources however, so I figured it was about time to surrender.

I've just started the second load when the front door opens, my mom, brother, and laughing sister all come in kick off their shoes in my newly cleaned living room. I felt a little bit like a woman as I decompressed the desire to lecture them about it. Maybe it was more of a parental thing. I had to admit, ever since the chat Izzie and I'd had I was a little caught up in the concept of all we talked about.

The prospect of children was the second scariest thing I think I could ever face in my life. After being raised by my lame ass father I was convinced I would be a failure as a dad, disappointing my kids in just about everything. Despite that feeling though, somewhere along the way I had managed to actually begin desiring the whole family deal, with big kitchen and dogs even. I didn't know if it was the imagery that had been painted, or just Izzie herself who brought out the long dormant parts of me, but something put it in my mind and made it stuck. I often imagined hanging extra stockings, or reading stories, or letting them break the rules and eat one more cookie. It was dumb, weird even, but I had somehow fallen into this imaginary vision of what life would be like.

"Here, I had fries leftover," Amber tells me as she hands over her to-go Chili's container. "Did you have fun?" she asks, scanning the now clean room, obviously thinking I had clearly not enjoyed myself, considering all it looked like I'd done was clean. Little did she know I'd had some of the most fun since the beginning of this week.

"Not as much as we did," Aaron answers for me, a smile on his face and the scent of alcohol on his breath. "Whatcha making for dinner, Martha Stewart?" he questions condescendingly. I roll my eyes at his attitude, unsurprised if he had managed to get himself fairly drunk in the span of the past two hours. Unlike places like Joe's apparently they don't take your keys away after you diminish your level of sobriety so much.

"You just got home from lunch," I point out with an eye roll, easily snatching the keys out of his hands with his slowed reflexes missing me altogether. "And you're not driving anywhere for a few more hours." I sigh, remembering this part of our relationship growing up far too well. Now was usually when Aaron would start on about how I treated him like a child and I couldn't act like Dad just because the real one was gone. I always just said to fuck it, not caring if he got upset if it at least kept him alive. I always imagined he would reach a certain age and thank me for it though, finally seeing all I'd done for him now that he was no longer a self-righteous teenage. I was obviously very long.

I turn my gaze onto Amber, someone far younger than him, but who clearly knew better. "Don't be a moron," I say. "Next time someone's going to drive drunk, either you find a way to stop them or get the hell out of their car." If no one else was going to teach her these simple things, I would. Last I knew schools preached them everywhere, but if I recalled correctly I ignored just about every word said in high school, so maybe someone else should say something once in a while, just to be sure the message is getting through.

"Okay, Dad," Amber answers with an eye roll, but I see her look back at me, almost a glint of respect in her eye. I wouldn't be surprised if I was the first one in our family to ever say something like that to her.

"He needs money," Aaron says, his voice not slurred but it dropped off enough. "Always trying to get money from me."

Great, I think. So I'd been right, he was in cahoots with dad and, somehow, they'd managed to track down mine and Izzie's address in order to show up on our doorstep and send Christmas cards. I wouldn't be surprised if they had some conspiracy going on, assuming, since I was a doctor, I'd have money to hand out. It wasn't the money part that necessarily bothered me the most, it was the fact that my brother was talking to my father at all. Had he not seen how our Mom acted on a daily basis? Did he not remember all those times as kids that we would hide behind the couch or play army guys under the bed to try and stay away from our rampaging father? Maybe I'd protected him too much growing up, not allowing him to get in trouble from time to time and learn consequences for his actions. Never did I think a beating was a fair punishment though.

"Dad is?" Amber asks. I want to just get her away from this now, considering how she had reacted the last time she thought one of her brother's was talking to our father. He was her scapegoat in life, I was pretty sure. Not that he didn't deserve every ounce of blame he got, of course. "Why are you...why would you talk to Dad?"

My brain is busy running through all the possibilities of damage control and how to keep everyone calm, when I hear a crash come from the bathroom, causing thoughts of anything aside from Izzie to flee from my mind. I sprint the short distance from the living room to the bathroom door, knocking on it as I call, "Iz, are you okay? Izzie?" The panic is evident in my voice, worry coursing through my veins as worst case scenarios run through my mind. I try and twist the knob, of course finding it locked. I was just about to break down the door when the shower shuts off. "Izzie?" I yell again, banging on the door even louder.

She opens the door with nothing but a towel wrapped around her body. "God, what?" she asks, taking in my panicked look as I stare at her, documenting her body for any injuries. "Did something happen?" she asks, panic in her own voice now at the thought of what she considered worst case scenarios, I'm sure.

"Are you okay?" She raises an eyebrow at me, obviously confused. After a couple of seconds it dawns on her though and she rolls her eyes and smiles at, what must have been, my overreaction.

"I dropped the soap," she explains. "The cap's broken, but I think I'll make it." She says this all whilst trying hard not to laugh at me. I sigh, annoyed with how relaxed she could be about this. I mean sure, she'd been fine, but did she know what that panic did to me? I swear, the adrenaline rush was enough to have allowed me to pull the door of the hinges.

She must see Amber and Aaron then, because she quickly pulls me into the bathroom with her and promptly shuts the door, a hand going up to run over her bare scalp in self-consciousness. "No more locking the door," I instruct, ignoring her sudden burst of secrecy. She didn't like anyone to see her bald, I got that. One day she'd either get over it, or grow her back enough that it stopped mattering so much. I'd go with whatever she wanted, personally. "I about knocked the door in when you didn't answer me."

"Okay, okay," she consents with an eye roll. "I won't lock the door anymore." She begins drying herself off quickly, and pulls on the clothes she'd brought with her. They consisted of a pair of jeans she probably found on the floor and a T-shirt that was, of course, too big for her and that I hadn't ever seen before on her.

"So," I say, taking a seat on the toilet as she dresses. "Want to hear the shit I've learned in the past ten minutes?" I ask, my head shaking just at the thought. She turns to me with a worried look in her eye, obviously aware that what as coming probably had to do with my family, and wasn't going to be good. "Well, first of all my brother managed to get himself drunk at lunch today, and then still drove my mom and Amber home," I stop there, trying to not get too angry at the thought. It wasn't even that I necessarily worried about Amber and my mom themselves, after all Aaron had been driving an eighteen wheeler. I seriously doubted any damage would have come to them in there, but just the general stupidity of the whole situation was pissing me off. "Next Aaron's drunken ass starts mumbling about Dad asking him for money and shit, which tells me they're probably talking, at least some."

"Oh, Alex," is all she says, obviously understanding how much the idea of my father and my brother talking bothered me. I spent my whole adolescence trying to shield everyone from his anger and rampages, only to have all of that effort be forgotten, it seemed, and for everyone to go crawling back to him. What if he asked Mom to take him back? She wouldn't refuse, I knew her, and she still loved him, was depressed without him. I didn't know if I could do this, handle all this stupid crap. I should send them away now, go back to when I sent meds and money and never talked to them or got mixed up in these crazy situations where I felt the need to shoulder the responsibility. This right here had been a huge deciding factor when I stopped talking to any of them. I couldn't handle this...drama.

"I don't want to talk about it," I sigh, standing up and ceasing the movement in her hands before she can tie her scarf on. I kiss the bare, smooth skin. I almost found it strange, thinking of her with all that long, blonde hair she used to have. I had grown accustomed to her bare head, how my lips smoothed against it and my fingertips ran across. It just reminded me how I could love her in anyway, even if she started growing trees for limbs, like that one guy, or lost her face and needed it remodeled, like Ava. She was Izzie, my Izzie, and I loved her however she was. I needed her around, because she was the best thing I'd ever had in relation to family. "You're beautiful," I remind her, turning her head in order to kiss her lips before securing the scarf around her head for her.

She turns when I'm finished, pulling me into a hug as she obviously picks up on my behavior. It was one of those moments where I wanted the rest of the world and it's problems to fade away, becoming just a universe of her and I. After the last few days I felt like I'd earned it, even if technically it had just been her and I no less than an hour ago.

"After they're gone," I say as she stills hangs on to me, resting her head on my chest and breathing in deeply. I had a feeling we were both just exhausted, as the days never got any easier. "I'm calling in sick, and you and I are going to do nothing for the day," I promise, rejoicing in the idea of getting to just be lazy and unproductive with my wife for a day.

"Because you and I never lay around and do nothing," she retorts, obviously referring to the rather large amounts of time we spent in bed whilst she was on chemo. Admittedly, we didn't do much else during that time, but still, we earned a day in bed.

"We should probably go deal with this...situation," I comment, and as if right on cue I hear Amber raise her voice, probably yelling at Aaron in the same way she'd yelled at me not too long ago.

"Instead of hiding in the bathroom?" she questions, a smile growing on her face as she pulls away. "Nah."

"Come on," I groan, dragging her out with me to face whatever problems we were about to walk into.

6:19 PM

"Everyone sit down and eat," I declare as I shut the TV off. After the afternoon we'd had I was in no mood to deal with them, but Izzie had insisted on making dinner and I figured she'd be pretty offended if they didn't eat with us. I had to admit, it smelled amazing at least. Tonight she'd prepared tacos, with ground chicken as opposed to beef, claiming something about it being healthier or whatever.

Unfortunately, Aaron had not yet left, but him and Amber were no longer on speaking terms. Mom however, who had overheard the conversation between the two of them, as had our neighbors I'm sure, was now pestering him over Dad. It made me cringe each time she asked for him. There was this sickening light in her eyes whenever he was brought up. I knew there was shit about love concurring all and such, but I just didn't think it should apply in that situation. After all, that wasn't a relationship built on love at all, at least not on mutual love.

I had made my point clear to Aaron at least, making sure he was aware that he was not to discuss Dad with Mom at all. Instead we focused on trying to convince her that she had imagined the whole situation. Which, considering her schizophrenia and the frequency of things like this happening, you'd think she would have believed us a little more easily.

"There's only four chairs," Amber grumbles, arms crossed over her chest as she avoided eye contact with Aaron, who had no mostly sobered up, at least after I'd forced half a pot of coffee down his throat in order to try and get him out of here more quickly. "Can I eat in the living room?"

"No," I answer, looking around for something else we could use. I go to the living room, take off a mismatched lamp, some coasters and someone's dirty tissue, and then carry one of the end tables into the kitchen, scooting the seats closer together to make room for it as I set it down. "There," I declare, although it was sure to be awkward to sit at since the side table was only a couple inches shorter than the table itself. Oh well.

Dinner is silent, for the most part. Izzie attempts a couple of pieces of conversation, though they mostly only carry on between her and I for a couple of minutes before being dropped altogether. Mom brings up my dad again, and I'm half tempted to slam my fist down on the table and yell at her about it. It was so frustrating, watching how illogically in love with him she was. Did she not remember the beatings? Think that they had all been part of her imagination as well? I didn't know, but I sort of wondered if she needed to be admitted if she thought she was better off with that man.

"Am I allowed to have my keys back after dinner?" Aaron asks, his tone annoyed, which was kind of ridiculous considering all of the trouble he'd caused.

"As long as you promise not to come back."

10:12 PM

I'm just about to fall asleep when Izzie climbs into bed, smelling like a bakery as she pulls me to her. She sighs into my chest, seemingly at ease. "You know one good thing about your crazy ass family?" she murmurs as she lets out a yawn.

"They remind you how grateful you are for sane people in the world?" I suggest, finding I appreciated even O'Malley after a day around my brother. And I hated O'Malley, with a passion, so that said something about how much I couldn't stand my brother.

"Well yeah, there's that," she agrees with a short laugh. "But they keep you busy, you know? You don't have a lot of opportunities to think about other crap in your life when you have to deal with their drama all day."

"That's good?" I ask, dumbfounded. It seemed strange, but then again, when you thought about it, it made sense for Izzie to not want to think about other things just now, rather focusing on my messed up family than her own. "You mean about Hannah?" I ask bluntly, not really trusting my own instincts to draw a proper conclusion.

"Yeah," she sighs sadly, gripping my arm and dragging it around her waist to hold her more tightly. "I just...I wish she would talk to me, you know? Let me explain, say I'm sorry. Stuff like that."

I don't really know what to say, because it didn't seem like a situation that would work out, at least not for a few years when she was older, more mature, and a little more reasonable. "In her eyes she's...been betrayed, by me too which kind of sucks, but we'd messed up, and now you just kind of have to back off, let her be mad, and if she wants to she can always to come to you. One day she will, don't worry."

"It hurts, Alex," she whispers sadly, not near tears, but just sounding sad, depressed. "I mean, I know it shouldn't, logically, I gave her up to them. I shouldn't expect...why would she want anything to do..." Now she's crying, all soft and quiet and heartbreaking.

"She will," I promise without validation. It wasn't right, necessarily, but the difference between me when I was fourteen to who I was now, almost fifteen years later, was pretty big. I'd say the odds of Hannah one day, eventually, wanting to talk to Izzie, were pretty high. "Now go to sleep. At the rate this is going we'll be up again in a few hours."

"Uh, god I hope not," she mutters as I chuckle.

"So do I, Iz."

**Second post of the day! This was yesterday's chapter, and gave us a glimpse of Aaron, showing that he is alive, but obviously unwelcome after that. I hope you all enjoyed this, for some reason it was a more difficult chapter to write. Thanks to those of you who have already reviewed last chapter :) The next one should be up in a few hours. I still need to do some work on it. Thanks again!**


	23. Chapter 23

Izzie – December 23rd 7:02 AM

The early sunlight must be what awakens me as my eyes open, taking in my still silent surroundings with gratitude. The opportunity for quiet had been rare lately, generally filled with fighting and schizophrenia episodes instead. The relief I felt was great as I tried to get out of the bed as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake up Alex as he still snored away like a sleeping bear.

I grab my things for a shower, turning the water to cool to wake me up as I get in, scrubbing down quickly, in order to escape the brilliant cold water idea of mine. I quickly dress, not bothering with the tedious, mildly effective makeup, instead settling for a scarf and the hopes that my recent series of good days coupled with proper meals will be enough to help fill in those usually void, sunken in areas of my face.

Tiptoeing out to the kitchen, I notice that I must not be the only one awake, as Amber's spot on the sofa bed has been vacated. Alex's mom was still snoring away however. Sure enough she sits in the kitchen, a piece of paper and pencil in her hand as she sits at the table and writes. I peer over her shoulder before announcing my presence, finding not a journal entry or a list, but a complex math equation. You wouldn't know from the looks of her, but she was clearly a major nerd.

"Morning," I say quietly, trying to give a bright smile. "You're up early." She shrugs, staying focused on her algebraic equation. I couldn't tell if she had reverted to the rude Amber or was simply concentrating. Math had always taken all of my focus in college, of course I always happily accepted potential distractions. "Want something to eat? I'm gonna make apple cinnamon pancakes." I missed living like this three weeks out of the month, being able to have sex and eat whatever I felt like. Better yet, feeling like I wanted to eat in the first place was pretty nice as well.

"Sixteen and five twelfths!" she exclaims instead, setting her pencil down with a content smile. I stare, raising an eyebrow at her outburst and then glancing back at her paper, staring more intently to see if I understood a thing it said. The first few steps made sense, after that I was lost. "Sorry, um, yeah." I nod, washing my hands before preparing the recipe from memory. She watches now, eyes no longer focused on her paper. "Do you want any help?" she offers, standing and rolling up the sleeves to her jumper in preparation of my directions. "I'm better than my brother at cooking, I swear."

"A gorilla could cook better than your brother," I say, looking over to his pathetic looking cookies which helped prove my point. She laughs, nodding her agreement as I begin pulling out the ingredients. I didn't take shortcuts while preparing these, no previously made mix allowed. "You can cut and peel the apples," I suggest, handing her the bag of apples and a peeler. She starts to work as I begin my combination of ingredients.

"So why are you up so early?" she asks, her eyes concentrating on the apple in hand.

"Seven used to be sleeping in for me." I reminisce of early wake up calls every day, rolling out of bed to care for patients morning after morning. To many it probably seemed crazy but, to me, it was worth the world almost. The more time I spent away from surgery, the more I grew to miss it. Unlike Cristina, it wasn't my whole life, but it was an important facet. "But now...yeah, I guess I am up kind of early."

"Alex used to be able to sleep until noon," she comments with a shake of her head as she moves her first peeled apple onto the cutting board. "Aaron was the same way."

An awkward silence follows the mention of her younger brother. I want to comment, but knowing Amber and her tendencies to often outburst when she got angry, I thought it might be better not to. "He still would if he could, I think. I like to let him sleep as much as he can if possible. There's a lot of times where he's up all day working from six in the morning until eight or nine at night, and then he'll come and take care of me all night. He deserves to sleep in if you ask me."

She's quiet following that for a minute. I look over at her a couple of times, making sure she wasn't angry or anything. Apparently I did not trust her emotions very much. Another comment is just about to come from me when she speaks, silencing my useless chatter before it starts. "He really loves you, doesn't he?"

I contemplate that, the very first time he had told me how much he "freakin' loved me," replaying in my mind, drawing a smile on my face. "He does," I agree simply. "It was a long road for the two of us to get here, but now that we are...he and I love each other very much," I finish, not really feeling the need to delve any deeper.

"But how'd you do it?" she asks, her tone almost reverent. "I was only ten by the time Alex left and I still remember how he was with girls. He openly refused any idea of marriage or family, probably because of Dad and all." I knew that. I'd been with that Alex in my life too. It wasn't too long ago that I walked in on him in bed with Olivia, naked. "It's like he's not even the same guy anymore."

"He's not," I agree easily as I being preparing the pan, cutting off a piece of butter to allow to melt in the bottom of it before pouring the batter. "He's changed in a lot of ways over the past five and a half years. He claim I've changed him, and maybe I can take credit for some of that. After all," I say with a smile. "Love changes us all over time. But I think your brother has always been a good guy. It was just a little...dormant when I meant him."

"I really want to think Aaron's a good guy," she says quietly, starting to chop the apples. Thinly, just as I had directed. "He was the one who stuck around, ya know? But he's just..."

"I get it," I shrug whilst tossing in the final ingredients of the pancakes and pouring the batter into the pan. "And maybe he's not...bad, exactly. People make mistakes after all." I can't help but think of my own mistake with that. How could I not be an advocate for others to forgive the people in their lives who have made mistakes when I wanted little more than for one girl to forgive mine? "Sometimes there are circumstances that just don't make sense to us."

"He's an ass, don't try and make him out as more." Honestly I had to admit, he kind of was if I was basing it off of yesterday's behavior solely. He'd been rude, made stupid choices, and had ended the day by starting a fight and storming off.

"I wouldn't invite him to my house again," I answer. "But I wouldn't dismiss him as the devil either."

"Talking about me again, are you?" Alex asks as he walks barefoot into the kitchen, only his boxers and black tank top on still. I didn't even think he had brushed his hair.

"What are you, of all people, doing up?" I ask. Most days he could sleep until ten if he didn't have to go into work. Admittedly, it wasn't very often that he woke up without me. "And no eating until they're finished."

"The smell woke me up," he answers, hovering a little too close to my frying pan for comfort. I swat him away with my spatula, trying to make him back up. "Alright, alright... nazi pancake lady."  
>He mutters the last part as he backs away in surrender. I can't help when he turns around but to smack his butt with the spatula catching him off his guard.<p>

"Okay, ew, washing that," Amber comments as she takes it from my hand and pours soap onto it. Alex glares at me, getting that look in his eye that he very often did before he would carry me off to our bedroom. Although now that wasn't an option so much, forcing us to contain our sexual tension. I had to admit, this aspect of company was not fun at all.

"We should send them out again," I suggest quietly with an eyebrow raise, hoping to get him to agree. 

Instead he only rolls his eyes. "You're horny in the mornings," he comments, not bothering to lower his voice at all. I can't help the reaction as my cheeks flush red when Amber begins to laugh.

"Hey, don't stop anything on my account." It shouldn't be tempting, her saying that, but Alex must be right because it kind of is. "Actually, since you look like you're really contemplating, please do stop on my account...please." She looks between the two of us, almost nervous now as she hands back the spatula so I can turn back to my pancakes and flip them before they could burn at all.

"I mean, you did say not to," Alex carries on, now getting her to blush as he gets increasingly closer to me.

"Oh god," she groans, covering her face with her hands in mortification. "Last time I ever joke about _that, _with you two," she announces as Alex presses up against the back of me while I remove my first batch of pancakes. I realize just a moment too late that he wasn't trying to just embarrass Amber, but was after my pancakes too.

Unfortunately by the time my brain catches up with all of this he's already plucked the plate off the counter and sat down at the table, beginning to devour them. "I hope you choke."

11:23 AM

I shuffle some stuff around in our room, on a mission to find the keys, which I knew had to be somewhere around here. If nothing else I was glad Alex had done the laundry yesterday, but I couldn't wait till his family left and I could figure out what we were doing with the rest of this crap. Also, I had some returns I needed to make to Target regarding decorative pillows and lamps. Apparently my husband was either color blind or ignorant regarding the decorative items of our house.

Finally my hands find the cool metal of the keys underneath of the magazine I'd been flipping through last night. I pick them up, hearing the satisfying jingle as I stuff them in my pocket. I grab my bag and check my wallet, making sure basic things like a credit card and my license were in there before leaving the room.

I walk past the kitchen table, where Alex sat messily wrapping some of the gifts I hadn't gotten to the other day, and straight into the living room. "I'm going out to be your lame ass brother a Christmas gift. Wanna come?"

Amber looks up at me, confused for a second I think, before shrugging her shoulders and standing. "Why not?" she answers, pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she walks over to get her coat.

"What are you doing exactly?" Alex asks, probably grateful for the excuse to be able to throw down Cristina's thus far poorly wrapped headphones. I didn't know how a surgeon could be so poor at wrapping gifts. Surgery was all about fine motor skills and minute finger movements. How hard was it to replace flesh with paper?

"Going to buy you a gift," I announce, ignoring his weary stare. Admittedly I didn't drive all that much lately, spending most of my time either confined to a hospital bed for recovery or the couch for rest. When I did go out, it was with Alex, who made sure I didn't pass out or have a spontaneous seizure. It didn't mean I couldn't drive though. I'd driven for over ten years, and I could do it now. Especially if I was capable of multiple rounds of sex. Obviously if I'm strong enough for that I could handle the complex process of sitting and turning a wheel. "And I don't want to hear a word about it."

He holds his hands up in surrender, obviously not considering this a matter worth fighting over. I was not a child, and he knew that. Thankfully he was smart enough of a person to remember that and put it to practice, for the most part. In all fairness, I did occasionally overestimate my abilities. In which case it was probably good he stepped in and reminded me of my limitations, before I actually did land myself back in the hospital. "Have your cell?" is all he asks.

"Yep," I answer, going over and giving him a kiss goodbye. "We'll be back not too long from now. Maybe we'll bring dinner home," I suggest, putting him out of his misery as my hands easily manipulate the wrapping paper and tape it all together, making a near perfect looking gift. "Don't forget to label, love."

3:41 PM

"What about cologne?" Amber suggests, picking up a bottle of that god awful Axe stuff. She takes a whiff and scrunches her nose up. "Never mind, scratch the cologne idea." It hadn't been an actual idea in the first place. Alex didn't use cologne. He used after shave, and even that was a bit on the inconsistent side. I swear, he was such a man.

"What did you get him?" I ask, hoping to gain some insight. Considering I was asking the sixteen year old girl with about ten dollars to her name, it probably wasn't the best idea, but I needed something.

"I can't say," she answers as she picks up a different bottle of cologne, making the same face as she sniffs it. "You guys got the same thing."

"Oh, hm," I say, annoyed with her lack of help. "Well what would you get him then? If you picked something else?" Someone, somewhere, had to be of help. There was no way not a single person, magazine, or commercial could not have given my a single idea in the past two weeks. I was a good gift buyer for god's sake!

"Nothing, that's why you two got the same thing." Okay, I decide mentally, she was useless. "I mean, after this morning I'm thinking maybe I should take it back and buy you two some condoms before there are a bunch of mini-Karevs running around."

I smile, being a ridiculous girl at the thought of babies, but I pull myself out of it quickly to correct her. "I can't have kids that way," I say, trying to shrug and be nonchalant about it. In all actuality, it worried me every time the topic came up and I envisioned our big kitchen with the two dogs and four kids. What would we do if the four kids couldn't be apart of that picture? It was a possibility, and that possibility wore on my mind almost every day. "Because of the cancer," I add as an explanatory afterthought.

"So...no babies?" she asks, keeping it as casual of a conversation as she could I'm sure. It shouldn't be a weird conversation between the two of us, but it somehow was.

"Hopefully babies someday," I answer, trying to pretend that I was intently interested in a watch, but knowing it wasn't in Alex's taste in the slightest. "We froze some embryos."

"Oh," she sounds surprised. "That's...weird." I got the feeling that science just wasn't her thing like math. Usually it was a packaged deal, but seemingly not so much in this case. "I thought you guys didn't get married until after the chemo though?"

"Well, we didn't," I answer. In fact, Alex's patronage had been entirely unexpected and not the least bit required of him. We were serious, of course, but at the time did we really know we wanted to be together forever? He had essentially just committed to having a child with me that day, which must have been a huge step for Alex. "The embryos have a higher chance of being successful when frozen already fertilized," I try and explain.

"Were you engaged or anything?" I knew what she was stuck on, I still found it pretty spectacular myself, once I'd really registered what he'd done. It wasn't anything done in a casual relationship, even in most serious ones it didn't seem likely. Alex had seemed so...sure when he'd told me though. The second time that is, the first he'd just said he had jizzed in a cup, which left me confused originally.

"No, but I think we both just...knew." I smile, we had known, hadn't we? We'd known so surely that we both agreed to a marriage with maybe two hours heads up. I had seen our future even then, visualizing it more of a pipe dream than a reality at the time. "But anyhow, condoms aren't really necessary."

"Then I don't know," she answers uselessly. "What does he even like?"

I roll my eyes, knowing very well the answer to that question. As if I hadn't tried it before already. "Beer and sex," I sigh, walking into clothing. "What we need is a new car," I comment, thinking of the piece of junk I'd just driven over here in. The acceleration was terrible, the braking hard to control, and things like the slow, warming heat and constantly fuzzy radio didn't help matters either. "But what am I supposed to do? Buy an envelope and write "car fund" on it. Not much of a Christmas gift."

I shove my way past this woman and her four, wait five, children who she was screaming at to be quiet. It didn't seem very effective, raising your voice to get your kids to quiet down. Either you were going to make them cry, or just get louder. I made a mental note to try and not do that when Alex and I had kids. I'd keep my cool better than that, I hoped. I usually handled high stress situations pretty well, and, from everyone I'd ever talked to, children were pretty stressful it sounded. Every where we turned today was like that, crammed with people who were frustrated and angry, probably going out with idea of quickly doing the last minute Christmas shopping they needed to and then being able to leave, only to shortly thereafter learn that was not about to happen.

"You could just get a new stereo?" she suggests in question, shrugging her shoulders. "Or get the brakes replaced."

"Nothing says Merry Christmas like a gift card to the auto-body shop,"I sigh, picking up a package of black tank tops like he always wore and throwing it in my currently empty basket. "Screw it. I'll just get him what he'll use and call it a day." What a frustrating process.

7:47 PM

Alex and Amber clear the dishes off the table, relinquishing me from any dish washing obligations after preparing dinner for the third night in a row. I'd opted to come home and make spaghetti instead of bringing junk home.

His mom had left the table half way through dinner, trying to "make a call" but there was apparently bad reception which required her to walk away from the table and stand by the window, talking into my boot for ten minutes as she conversed.

She now sat on the couch, staring out at nothing as far as I could tell. I was about to go and sit next to her, maybe try and talk to her some as well, if she was lucid enough for such a thing. But then my cell phone starts going off, distracting me from my previous intentions.

"Hello?" I answer, not having recognized the number. It didn't look like a line from the hospital, leaving me to think it was a wrong number or a telemarketer.

"I don't know if I want to talk to you," the voice on the other end says. I quickly pick up on who it is, recognizing the voice of my fourteen year old daughter pretty easily. I walk from the living room to the bedroom, for some privacy.

"Okay..." I say hesitantly. I wanted to encourage her to talk to me, because I wanted it so much right now. I also didn't want to make her feel like I was pushing her, which convinced me to leave my lips closed until she spoke again.

"I don't know if I want to because you lied, and Alex lied, and my mom tried to lie," she explains. I hear her let out a sigh. "I hate being lied to," she admits.

"Me too," I respond, recalling how not to long ago I was about ready to murder Alex for the information he had refrained from me before. It wasn't much difference from her perspective, only she had even more than one person trying to hide important information from her.

"Because when you're a kid, sometimes doctors lie a lot. They have this theory about kids being resilient and healing better, so they try and lie and make you think you're going to be all better and there's nothing to worry about." She sounds nervous as she rambles slightly. I can't help but think of my own habit to chatter on when I was upset or nervous or trying to make a point I didn't quite know how to explain. Turns out, she'd gotten that as well. Alex had said she liked to talk, but I had kind of just considered that apart of her being fourteen years old and all. "So I don't like it when people lie, alright?"

"Okay," I agree quickly, afraid she'd hang up if I argued. "I'm sorry," I add as well, because I was, for so many things.

"Damn straight you are," she answers. I hear her take in a breath and then release it slowly. We're both silent.

"So..." I finally try and say. "Don't take this the wrong way but, if you hate me and lying and all...why are you calling?"

"Oh," she answers, sounding kind of unsure. "Well see, I don't hate you." Which was good to know, I suppose. "It's just...it's a thing, alright? But I'm bored and sick and my parents are divorcing and I don't have any friends right now but you...you, can kind of get it, right? Because you're sick too? So I thought, maybe I could call you or whatever."

"That's fine," I try and assure quickly. She was talking to me, that was all I needed, even if it was about chemo and white blood cell counts. I had the opportunity to talk to my daughter with her knowing she was my daughter. I still couldn't believe how much she'd groan. My greatest memory of her would always be that short opportunity I got to hold her for, my little Sarah safe in my arms, before handing her over to a proper family.

"But I don't really know if I can." I had a feeling that might be coming. It wasn't like she and I could ever be buddy, buddy. An occasional phone call, the right to send a card on her birthday, knowing the updates of her treatment, that was all I could really ask for. But despite those things being so simple, miniscule even, I still really wanted them.

"I just want to..." I trail off, unfortunately being attacked by an onslaught of emotions as I try my best to avoid crying. "I want you to know I never gave you up because I didn't l-love you." I clear my throat, trying to stop the irrational knot that was forming around my voice. I'd had this conversation with her a million times in my head. Never had it been over the phone and usually I wasn't the one to be crying. For whatever reason I never imagined myself to cry. "I wanted you more than anything, but I knew you'd have a chance at such a better life with those people."

"I...I don't think I can do this," she says, obviously frightened off by my speech. I can say I hear the tears in her voice as well though. Making her upset had not been my goal, that was for sure. She mutters a goodbye into the telephone, leaving me with nothing to do in this room.

Taking one look around I decide enough is enough as I put away the laundry that was sitting in a basket, make the bed and unpack some of the boxes with knickknacks in it. I had a hole in my stomach right now, it felt like, so I would nest, even if it was only out bedroom, I would be nesting. All things considered though, this being the only room I could nest in would still provide me with plenty to do from the looks of things. Next I could always try and conquer the hall closet.

"Izzie?" Alex asks as he enters the room sometime later. He must be done the dishes, hence why he'd come searching for me. I sigh, dropping the pile of books I'd had in my arms and walking into a hug. "Are you okay? You've been back here for a while. I thought you were talking to George maybe."

George! That's who I could call about this later, also we still needed to exchange gifts. And him, unlike certain other people at least weren't impossible. "No, that would have been Hannah earlier," I say, a twisting in my stomach when I considered it. She didn't hate me. At least now I finally knew she didn't hate me.

"How is she? Any news on the cancer?" he phased into his concerned big brother roll quickly. I didn't know what had sparked it out of him, but so far it's been good to see, helpful even.

"No, no, she wasn't calling about that." I pull off my jeans and scarf, not caring that it was only a little after eight. "I'm going to bed. Feel free to join me." I smile at him, trying to coerce him to come lay with me, since currently he was against all other fun activities done in bed.

"Are you alright?" he asks again. I dismiss it, not caring about much as I close my eyes, managing to

fall asleep before I can much else us as exhaustion catches up to me.

**Sorry this one is kind of short! After being kept busy by three kids all day though, they're pretty much the only reason I managed to write this far. Please let me know what you thing, we've almost made it to the end here. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Sorry! I know I've ended up late again, and this time I accept all credit and blame to that fact. It was due to my lack of preparedness at the end of the day. I had no idea how hectic Christmas Eve and Day would be for me, and when I sat down to write Christmas Eve night, I fell asleep whilst still on my computer! So, I hope you can all use your Christmas spirits and forgive me. Christmas Day will be posted tomorrow. Once again, sorry for the delay!**

Alex – December 24th 8:11 AM

"Psst, Alex," a voice whispers in my ear, sounding suspiciously like an excited Izzie. I groan, rolling and stretching as I find her, kissing behind her ear with my eyes still closed.

"You are kidding me, right?" I groan, unable to be too angry with her. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't spent the last three weeks decorating our house from top to bottom and making enough cookies to please Santa himself. I should have expected her to wake me up early on Christmas Eve.

"Do you want me to make breakfast?" she offers, sitting up and looking wide awake, perky even, as she stares down at me. I remained just where I was, taking her hand and tugging her back down next to me. Maybe I could keep her here long enough with a bit of a make out session, what with her supposedly increased libido and all it might not be so hard.

So, I press my lips against her's, and she, as I predicted, joins in quickly as she responds eagerly, taking her hands and pulling my face closer to her's. However, she is the one to break away, which wasn't like her at all. Especially considering the amount of time she'd spent trying to convince me to have sex. I swear, this woman would be the death of me.

"You still have morning breath," she declares, reaching over onto her nightstand and producing a box of Tic-Tacs, presenting two to me. "We need to do something about that."

"So...now that my breath is fresher?" I ask, leaving my question hanging as I pull back in for a kiss. Her hands find my hair as her tongue works it's way inside my mouth and she nibbles on my bottom lip. I flip us over, so I hover on top of her and she's smiling up at me, reaching back up in order to try and find my lips again.

She looks hesitant as her hands go to start removing my clothes, sighing as she stopped. I had to admit, I never actually anticipated following through, but I still managed to be disappointed as her hands fell beside her. "We can't, I get it now," she grumbles, still reaching up for another kiss. "I totally would, only, all I can think about while undressing you is what would happen if someone walked in? Plus, Amber gets up absurdly early. She'd hear."

"Now where was that voice of reason a couple of days ago?" I ask with a shake of my head, referring to the day she had attempted very much so to try and seduce me. I wouldn't have minded so much if she hadn't been so damn good at it. I was endlessly attracted to her, even if my mother was in the next room over. With Izzie it was just...very Izzie. "Now that I've greeted you for Christmas Eve, can I go back to sleep."

She laughs, rolling her eyes as she still lays beneath me. "I said we couldn't have sex," she reminds me. It was funny, no matter the situation behind the words, they still kind of sucked. "But that doesn't mean we couldn't do a couple of other...fun things." To prove there were other fun things to do she reaches up and kisses me, this time using her strength, and my ability to cooperate, as she flips us over again, now laying on top of me. Her body was so light that I could hardly tell a difference.

I get her laughing as my fingers dance lightly across her ticklish areas, moving her clothes to reveal the skin. She squirms beneath me, trying to insist that I stop. Hearing her giggle like that though, it was too good to just pass up.

She finally stills my hands, grabbing my wrists and holding them in place. I help by not fighting against them, knowing if I did it would be an incredibly short battle. We used to do this often, and she could grab my wrists and hold them down whilst kissing me, making me forget why I was enjoying tickling her, instead of just kissing her, in the first place. Now that she couldn't do so anymore, I thought I'd help. "I need to go make breakfast," she sighs.

"Screw it," I answer simply. "We can eat cereal." In fact, cereal sounded good right about now. A bowl of my favorite, hopefully this time with some milk on it, not that I didn't eat it dry often enough.

"I can't just...not make Christmas Eve breakfast," she tells me like it is the most obscene suggestion in the world, now getting up faster than before.

"Wait, hear me out," I insist, now I was the one grabbing her wrists. "It's Christmas _Eve._ So how much do we really need breakfast on a day meant to celebrate the evening?" I raise my eyebrows as I challenge her, earning an extremely exaggerated eye roll.

"Alex," she sighs, resigning to my lips for just a second before forcing me away. "I have things I want to do, like make breakfast and...oh, I don't know, get dressed. You however, can stay in bed until the evening for all I care. Go for it." I give up, releasing her as she stands and begins her morning routine. I know I was supposed to get up, insist on helping her with breakfast or something, but I still struggled with the idea of getting out of bed.

"Over the next few years I'm teaching you how to sleep in on a holiday," I insist as she leaves the room with a dismissive hand wave. I sigh, contemplating if her rage would be worth my getting to sleep for an extra hour. It doesn't take me long to think it over, and I get up quickly as I consider the prospect.

9:17 AM

I throw my fork down, having just polished off my final piece of French Toast. The opportunity for more was no longer an option, unfortunately, as we'd run out of bread. "Glad I made breakfast now?" she asks as she walks behind me with my breakfast dishes.

"So, what are we doing today?" Amber questions as she plays Sudoku, having finished her breakfast a good ten or fifteen minutes ago.

Mom hadn't wanted to eat, she said, instead laying on the couch doing nothing. It was a little disturbing, how her eyes watched the ceiling fan so closely as the blades rotated. Almost like she saw some other purpose in them...but no, she wouldn't be able to do any real damage with that.

"Well, the day's pretty open but church starts at seven tonight," Izzie answers. I was trying really hard to not make it obvious how much I desired to skip out on this whole church thing. Were Amber to discuss the smallest desire to go, I would happily relinquish her from babysitting duties and switch. Only thing was, I knew she wouldn't. "I'll make sure we get to eat before I have to leave."

"So," I start, trying to lead into something making her irritated. "Was there any chance part of this tradition included skipping out early?"

"Haha," she answers with an eye roll. "Don't worry, the service usually isn't too long on Christmas for the sake of getting people home earlier. But, in answer to your question, no."

I'm about ready to try a different angle when her phone starts to ring. She looks hopefully as she goes to read the ID, her face falling for a second. It picks back up quickly once she starts talking though, exclaiming "George!" in greeting. Even had she not of done that I would still know who it was. For whatever reason, it was still far beyond me, Izzie could be at her happiest when talking to George. She was all, bright and shiny, as Meredith would say.

I leave her to chat with O'Malley, making up my mind to not let it bother me as I go sit down next to my mother. "Hey", I try and say not really getting any reaction. I grab her purse and pull out her pill container, sure enough they'd been taken for today. She just didn't seem like it.

"I gave them to her when she woke up a little while ago," Amber answers as she sees me staring into Saturday's empty pill container. "She doesn't handle holidays well, Alex."

That's all she says before going back to the kitchen, probably to help Izzie clean up. I know I'm staring as my eyes focus in on my mom, who lays staring straight on her back and watches the fan go around and around. I lean perch myself on the bed, not leaning back and making myself comfortable. I hardly wanted to spend a lot of time in this depressing position.

Was it my dad? I wonder, what with him having sent Izzie and me a card, along with his apparent phone convo's with Aaron, it was likely that he'd contacted her as well, wasn't it? If that was the case...I didn't know how she would react necessarily, but this seemed like a very high possibility.

Depressing thoughts flee my mind as Izzie perches herself behind me on the bed, wrapping her arms around my neck and laying her head on my shoulder. "It'll be okay," she promises, turning her head to kiss my cheek.

"Well, yeah," I shrug, like I'd thought of nothing else, like my mind wasn't circling with worry for my mother. I didn't need her to be happy and vivacious, or even to be totally sane. I could handle her illness as long as I knew she was trying. "I was just dozing off a bit. After all, someone did wake me up at eight in the morning." I turn an accusing eye to her, knowing she'd caught my switch of topic but letting me.

"Well it was either that or miss the breakfast you very happily ate," she points, referring to the multitude of french toast I'd ended up eating.

"It's hardly my fault you're so damn good at cooking," I point out, getting her to smile at the compliment.

"Among many other things," she adds. I roll my eyes at her ego but turn my head so our lips can find each others. "Do you think she'll come with us tonight?" she asks, my mother not even looking in our direction as we kneel here, talking about her as well as half making out. She didn't even look.

"No," I shrug. I didn't see her doing much of anything. I wondered how she behaved with my brother at lunch yesterday. Had she been alive and talking? Did she laugh from time to time? Did my siblings really have an element to help her through the day that I'd always just...missed? Maybe I looked too much like my dad, or I'd been around too often when she'd been beaten. I didn't really know the reason, but just like being left in foster care as my brother and sister were pulled out, getting to go home, this hurt too. It left me feeling like some insufficient bastard, not even a good enough son to his own mother.

Izzie stands then, tugging my hand and pulling me away from her and just into our hallway. She presses me lightly against the wall and kisses me lovingly. No desperate passion, or exciting buildups, just her lips on my mine as she told me she loved me without a single word. So what if I was a bad son? What if my own mother did want me or my siblings thought I was a bum? I was a good husband, that was what I wanted to be over all else. I wanted to be good to Izzie. Because she was the very best thing that had ever happened to me.

2:15 PM

"Mom and I are going with you tonight," Amber says to me as her, Izzie, and I play some weird card game I'd never heard of before. Izzie said she'd learned it back in the trailer park when she was a kid. To be honest I didn't think she had the rules right though, as we still were on the first round after twenty minutes of playing.

"What?" I answer in response, kind of astounded at the sentence my sister had just uttered. I definitely remembered Mom's insistent outburst the other day, hardly believing she would comply. "Mom hates church." She wouldn't step foot in one when we were kids, even the year Amber had ended up in some stupid play with a girl from school. She was, funnily enough, one of the Wise Men and had a total of one line. I still remembered her standing in the middle of the living room rehearsing it over and over again, though.

Amber shrugs, discarding a three of hearts, which was of no use to my hand. "We were talking and she said she'd come, that's all." It sounded like there was a lot more to it, not to mention Amber herself didn't seem like the type to want to go to church. Who knows, she surprised me with every other sentence out of her mouth.

"Whatever, be ready at quarter of seven," I answer, ignoring Izzie's excited banter about them being able to come and her experiences as a child. I look over to my mother, still in the living room, and wonder about her. I don't think I would ever be able to understand how she thought and reasoned as saw things. It was like logic was just unnecessary in life, instead going with the voices that audibly gave you instructions. I couldn't help but think of Izzie and her own experiences wit the voices in her head. She hadn't been dealing with grief or guilt in the end at all. She'd been sick the whole time. Sometimes, I'd like to think Mom was sick that way too.

5:52 PM

Izzie stands in our room, examining the closet again as she holds out one shirt, then the next, then holding them both to her body. In the end they just get shoved to the back of the closet, probably because they fit so poorly in her mind. I should insist on buying new clothes as part of her Christmas gift. Not a ton of stuff, just something nice she'd be able to wear out on nights like there.

"I'm starting to think you do this to me on purpose," I mutter as I walk into the room, shutting the door behind me. She spins on her heel then, staring at me with those same sad eyes. "I mean, as much as I'm for pre-church sex and all...Alright, what is it?" I ask, taking her hand and sitting her down on the bed next to me.

"Are we fooling ourselves?" she asks, picking up my hand and playing with my fingers. "With all of this Christmas cheer and family time, is it all just a big show?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Izzie?" I ask, resting my head gently on top of her's. "You're the Christmas queen, full of bright and shiny joy for all, or whatever. Even when things suck you make them suck less with your constant positive outlook on life," I say, a mild tone of joking annoyance slipping in. It was one of the things that made her Izzie, how she was always so happy and able to see the good in...everything.

"It's just starting to seem so silly," she says, awkwardly shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, there's been this disastrous visit your family made, I'm weak and tired all the time, my daughter is somewhere between hating me and wanting to talk to me, but can't really decide, and I'm really just starting to feel like this holiday is all one big, fake lie."

I can't help but wonder what has happened between now and an hour ago, when she had been just as peppy and joyful over the holidays as always. Had her and O'Malley fought again? Did it have to do with Hannah? Maybe Amber had said something nasty? "Well," I start, hoping to be able to reassure her. I wouldn't be against missing church, personally, but I knew it was important to Izzie so...to church we would go. "Had you not of made my family come here I wouldn't have an idea who my sister is, and you being weak and tired this year will just make your perfect health next year just that much more incredible." I kiss her, holding her face to mine as I do my best to demonstrate how good things were. "And Hannah, well don't worry about her. She's taken a first step, and I bet things will work out."

She smiles, pressing another light kiss to my lips. "Did you just pull an Izzie in order to cheer me up?" she asks, her original holiday cheerfulness all over her face. She was happy again, my work was done.

"Now I'll go back to rolling my eyes and muttering about how ridiculous you are, and you prance around the house and ramble on about Christmas, alright?" I stand and pull her clothes out for her from the closet. A dress she'd worn once on a date of ours probably a year ago. It was a deep red color, and the sleeveless top was all glittery. "You wear this, I'll put on a suit, and we can go sing some Christmas songs and pray, or whatever crap they do at churches on Christmas."

She stands and takes the dress from me, hanging it back up. "Tried it on already, doesn't fit," she says sadly, but the smile returns to her face quickly as she kisses me. "Thank you," she whispers, all things involving clothing and proper Christmas spirit forgotten as we ignore the outside world and get lost in one another for a little while.

6:55 PM

"We're gonna be late," Izzie mutters as the four of us clamber into the car, still nowhere near any church. The one we were supposed to go to was ten minutes away, on days of good traffic. I realize now as I pull out onto the main road, that today would be anything but a good traffic day. What surprised me was the concept of how many people were still out shopping right now.

"We're not gonna be late," I try and argue, coming to a stop about a hundred feet from the light, with traffic obviously backed up for several more lights ahead of us. "Okay," I say as she gives me a look with her arms crossed. "Maybe we'll be a little late."

My mom is in the back, muttering to herself, as well as arguing with someone else. The word church is said a lot, she's trying to get someone to come with her. I had a feeling it was probably my dad in her mind.

"I'm up for just getting ice cream and like, singing Silent Night in the Dairy Queen," Amber calls from the back. "Just saying." Even though she had volunteered to go, I had a feeling she was half as willing as me, and the only reason I was so willing was because Izzie was my wife. Church was long, and boring, and stupid to do if it's only once a year and all you're doing is singing songs and counting the hours until you can go home.

"We'll just be a little late," I say again, sighing as I sit back for the long wait that would be sitting through traffic.

9:12 PM

"Come on, Iz," I beg, just wanting to go do the present exchange and get to bed already. It'd been a long evening of extensive Christmas carol singing, listening to a guy talk about God being born, and some play with kids who only half remembered their lines. Izzie'd had fun though, making the evening worth it as she sang along, ooh and awwed over the kids, and bowed her head and closed her eyes during prayer. Amber had fallen asleep during the service, leaning her head on my shoulder at one point as she slept. I didn't think my mom had really even paid very close attention through the whole thing.

"You go," she insists as she peels the potato over the trash can. "I won't be too much longer, promise." After getting home fifteen minutes ago she'd just about gone straight to the kitchen, threw on her apron and set to work for the things she could prepare for tomorrow immediately. She'd insisted to finish peeling, so that there would be less work for the mashed potatoes tomorrow.

"We aren't starting Christmas Eve without you, genius," I answer with an eye roll. "The whole reason we're doing this at all is because of you, don't forget."

She transfers the potatoes from the sink and then to the cutting board, starting to chop the first one expertly. "That's you should be so grateful to have me," she responds, turning to look at me with a bright smile without ceasing her cutting. I see the accident happening a split second before it does, unable to stop it as she cuts into her finger. "Shit," she mutters, dropping the knife, but other than that responding surprisingly slow.

I grab her, directing her to the sink and turning the water on to begin washing the blood down the drain. She tries to use her free hand to transfer the potatoes out of there, before they can get a blood shower, but I move her other hand away. We'd buy some mashed potatoes from the damn store. "How deep does it look?" she asks, not looking to it herself as she usually did. I knew it wasn't the blood or anything that bothered her, it was the impending fear that stopped her from glancing at it.

Sighing I try and get a close look as all of the blood continues to rush out. "It looks like you need stitches," I answer with a shake of my head.

"Damn it," she curses, her eyes suddenly filling with tears that I knew had nothing to do with pain. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

"It's not a big deal, Iz." I try and say calmly. I had a momentary panic attack, but clearly she would be fine so there was hardly and need to worry. "We'll call someone and you can get right in. I doubt it'll be more than an hour that we're there." I shrug, picking up my cell and dialing for Seattle Grace.

"It was stupid," she sighs, leaning her head back as we still stand at the sink, resting it against my shoulder.

Some nurse answers the phone, I ask to be transferred to Meredith Grey, which she puts me on hold for. "Yeah, it was," I agree. Who tries and cuts things when not looking? It'd be like driving down the highway with a blindfold on. "But whatever, I do stupid shit too."

"I'm sorry," she sighs, hanging her head as I turn the sink of and get a clean towel to wrap around her bleeding finger.

"Alex?" Meredith asks, her voice a mixture of surprise and concern. "Is something wrong?"

"Just with Izzie's judgment," I sigh. I begin untying her apron with my free hand, making sure she applied pressure to her finger. "We need to come so she can get a couple of stitches. Any chance you could just do it and save as an hour wait?"

"Sure," she answers. "I'll go grab a suturing kit now and see you in a few minutes."

"Thanks," I answer before hanging the phone up and stick it in my pocket. "Shoes, coat, and let's go," I direct to her as I begin getting myself ready to leave.

"Oh my god," Amber says from her place in the living room, getting up and walking over to Izzie who still held the kitchen towel around her finger whilst simultaneously trying to maneuver her foot into her shoe. I gesture her over to the couch so I can do it for her. "What happened?" 

"Just your run of the mill potato cutting incident," I answer sarcastically. "These things happen when you don't look while cutting. Take note." I slide both of her shoes on and stand to get her coat. "We'll do the present thing when we get back."

"I'm really sorry," Izzie sighs, looking disappointed as she looked in at my mom, who still sat under the Christmas tree, watching the lights blink on and off.

"She just had to get to the hospital one way or another," I say, because it was funny how we'd done everything we could so she would be home for Christmas, only to end up going there anyhow. "Come on."

"Sorry," she says again to Amber.

"No big deal," she says just as I had. "Christmas will still be here when you get back." She shrugs, her eyes warily glancing at Izzie's injured hand, looking petrified. "Just go...sew that thing up."

I laugh, amused by my sister's squeamishness. "We'll be back," I promise as I drag a guilty looking Izzie out the front door.

"Of all the things," I hear her sigh. She had a good point. Considering she had a previously terminal cancer, a completely shot immune system, and recently performed brain surgery, you'd think one of those would have been what got her sent to the hospital. But no, she sliced her finger open instead. "Oh wait!" she exclaims starting to turn and go back up the stairs.

"What?" I ask. How did we need to take for her to get her finger stitched? The car keys certainly seemed sufficient to me.

"We need to take people's gifts. I mean, if we're going to be there anyway..."

"Seriously?" I ask, not at all surprised that Izzie of all people would remember about Christmas presents just now. "Come on, we can do it tomorrow." She's still trying to get into the apartment, twisting the doorknob before remembering she'd locked at the door on our way out.

"Hospital," I say, grabbing her by the elbow before she can knock on the door and make Amber let her in. "Before you pass out from blood loss." Obviously I knew it wasn't accurate, but I felt like exaggerating if it got her moving instead of worrying about handing Christmas gifts to people we saw almost every day of our lives. Odd were, we'd be seeing them plenty soon enough.

The horn honks as I press the unlock button of the key chain, opening her door for her before going around to my own sound and pulling out, driving toward the hospital. "We should have a suture kit at home..." she ponders, as though this would be happening again. "It'd save us a trip to the ER, after all."

I roll my eyes, thinking to myself how ridiculous she was. "Are we also keeping the local anesthetics at our house?" I wouldn't dare sew into her without numbing first, even if she insisted. Of course I didn't want to hurt her, but I also didn't want to be the one she bitched to for the next fives year over it. I knew pretty certainly that I would get the blame for it too.

"Hm, well for me to practice with then," she says with a shrug of her shoulders. "I miss work," she adds as I pull into the hospital's parking lot. Happy for once to be able to use the patient parking lot instead of the far distant employee one that required a trolley if you wanted to get there to the hospital in under five minutes from your parking spot. Ridiculous, if you ask me.

"I miss having you at work," I sigh, remembering how much I enjoyed working together, the fun we'd have when working together on patients. "But you get back when you get back," I shrug, not wanting to go creating a big deal out of it.

We walk through the emergency room doors, spotting Mer as we go in. She waves to us and we go over, a spot already prepared for Izzie to get her stitches. She made some fast work. I suspected it'd be pretty dead in here. The ER was on of the least busiest places on the holidays. Everyone decided they could hold off being sick until tomorrow, when they had to go back to work. But right now the hospital in general seemed pretty hectic.

Izzie's eyes land on something and follow it. I turn to see O'Malley, pushing a patient into one of the trauma rooms. "We just got busy," Meredith sighs, sitting Izzie down and injecting the drug into the site that needed numbing. "Drunk driver, took out two other cars. One of them has a windshield wiper through her throat," she informs excitedly. I had to admit, it would not be a surgery I'd want to miss.

"I can do this if you need to go," I say, hand ready to take over anyhow. There was some compulsion, when you were a doctor at least, that you know better for your loved ones than anyone else. It drove other doctors nuts as your try and make them see your way, having known and weighed every possible option most times. So even if it was entirely against the rules, I'd still prefer to stitch Izzie up, convinced I could be gentler with her.

"Nah, this won't take long," she says as she sets to work. "Derek won't be too happy if we get stuck here tomorrow though, I can tell you that," she sighs, shaking her head.

"Why's that?" Izzie asks, her face flinching as Meredith begins her work.

"Coming from the queen of Christmas?" I say, thinking of how mad she herself would be if I ended up working Christmas. It was like a hallow time for her. The Christmas was to Izzie as the Sabbath was to the Jewish, or whatever. It was important, that was the main point in my mind. "I think you'd murder me in cold blood if I even thought of working Christmas."

She rolls her eyes at my exaggeration. "Well Derek and Meredith don't really do Christmas," she shrugs.

"I wish that could be said for this year," Meredith shakes her head, pulling back from her work on Izzie now. Only three stitches had been necessary to close the wound. "Derek's all into Christmas now, apparently. Saying we need to practice before we have kids."

I raise an eyebrow, momentarily questioning the guy's sexuality from her explanation. "Good news is we aced our practice rounds," I say, my mind envisioning the place I lived in right now. When you thought about it, it looked an awful lot like the North Pole. Santa would be jealous of the house we'd decorated, and on a budget too. Well, a supposed-to-be budget that my wife entirely ignored.

"Is George free, do you think?" she asks, turning to look into the trauma room he'd gone in, as I glance to my watch, taking note of the late hour. At this rate we wouldn't be home until tomorrow. I don't say anything though, knowing she'd just account it to me not liking George.

"Hey, Izzie," O'Malley says as he walks out, wearing that look of concern we all had when we weren't sure what was happening next with her illness. Had I walked in to the ER and found Izzie sitting here I'd probably handle it far worse than George. Then again, _I _was her husband and he was simply her friend. Of course I should be more concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah," she waves it off, lifting her hand to show him her now stitched index finger. "Knife just missed the potato is all." She yawns, wide and exhaustive looking, making me really wish for a bed right about now. I see her look over in my direction and try and just offer her a smile, not letting her see me tired or mildly annoyed. "I think I should be getting home," she tells O'Malley. "We still have to open gifts with Amber and your mom, remember?" she says to me, like I'd been the one to keep her here.

"Yeah, we should go," I agree instead, helping her off the hospital bed and to put her coat on. Izzie exchanges her "Merry Christmases" with everyone, promising to call tomorrow and have them over for a gift exchange. It reminded me that soon it would just be Izzie and I living there again, and I cheered internally. Meredith gives me a hug before we leave, and O'Malley and I shake hands, my grip probably a little too tight for his bambi hands.

Izzie leans into me as I wrap an arm around her waist, the two of us walking out into the winter wonderland that currently was Seattle, with snowflakes falling all around us. Izzie's face lights up as we walk outside, my grip tightening on her in fear of her slipping. Besides, she wasn't paying much attention to her surrounding because of the snow.

We smile at each other as we walk toward the card, trapped on some sort of Hallmark card right now it seemed. I lean in and kiss her, unable to stop myself as I do. I feel her smiling against my lips as we have a minor make out session in the parking lot, still a good twenty feet from the car. "Perfect," she whispers, and I had to say, for what it was worth, I kind of agreed.

**Merry Christmas to you all! I hope your holidays were lovely. I know mine were! Like I said, final update tomorrow at some point in the day. Hopefully it won't be too hectic, but who knows. Keep voting for your opinions on a sequel or new story. I'm definitely leaning toward new story right now, I think. I have a pretty excited plot in my head right now that I liked to use. Anyways, thanks for reading as always. I'll see you tomorrow! (kind of sad I'm saying that for the last time tonight.)**


	25. Chapter 25

Izzie – December 25th12:00 AM

"Alex," I whisper, trying to see if he is still awake as he laid wrapped around the back of my body. We'd gotten home about thirty minutes ago, finding his mother and sister already and asleep and both exhausted ourselves. We decided on just going to bed instead of trying to carry out some tradition that none of us actually had while all half asleep.

"Alex." I speak louder this time, maybe he just wasn't paying attention. I shove against him a little, using my foot to kick his calf. "Alex." He groans in response, not uttering any actual words. "Are you awake?" I ask, not as sure now as I'd been before.

"Seriously?" he asks, sounding surprisingly like me. "What'd you expect to happen when you woke me up exactly?" Now he was not only awake, but also irritated. I felt kind of bad for waking him, knowing how tired he must be somedays. Oh whatever, he could sleep later.

"Don't be cranky," I pout, turning in his arms so I faced him. His eyes are still shut tight, probably half asleep to the world even as we held a conversation. "It's Christmas." I can't help but smile brightly as I say the words, a familiar excitement seating itself in my stomach.

"And what time on Christmas is it exactly, Iz?" he murmurs, dozing back off already. Could he not humor me for just ten minutes? In all fairness, my mind reminds me, he had put up with Christmas decorating from hell and enough cookies to nourish an entire, small African country.

"Well, it's kind of early still," I try and evade, knowing he probably wouldn't figure it out anyway. We could wake up at seven and I tell him it'd been only an hour earlier. He would be none the wiser.

"Christ," he says as he does open his eyes and looks at the clock.

"Mas," I finish, laughing nervously at my own lame joke. "Oh come on, you can't be mad at me on Christmas." I smile, kissing him on the lips joyfully.

He rolls his eyes but kisses me back, pulling away a short while later. "You're ridiculous. You know that, right?" I nod, perching myself up on my elbows, still wide awake.

"But you're ridiculous with me, remember?" He gently forces my head against his chest, wrapping me up in a mildly constricting bind and running his fingers along the top of my head. "Are you trying to force me to go to sleep?"

"What gave me away?" he asks dryly. "Let's celebrate Christmas when the sun's up, alright Iz?" I contemplate that, almost unwillingly to comply but knowing I had very little choice. Obviously he wouldn't be joining in on any late night festivities, and there wasn't much fun in having Christmas by yourself. Besides, I probably should sleep so I wasn't exhausted by tomorrow night.

"Alright," I agree, surprised when I let out a yawn, my eyes getting heavier as I laid against him. "But don't get mad at me if I wake you up early."

The last thing I hear is his condescending "mhm" before falling to sleep. Unfortunately, not dreaming of any dancing sugar plums.

7:32 AM

The smile on my face as I flip pancakes is probably one that would beat all three year olds across the world. The building and anticipation to this day was usually my favorite, actual Christmas never being much of an occasion as a child, my mom not having enough for many things. Then as an adult work or studying or stupid boyfriends, something always got in the way, and it sucked because I'd been all excited and happy for this one day, only to have it taken away from me. But every year I still broke out the decorations, sang along to the Christmas music, and baked cookies in the shape of Rudolph and snowmen. Because it was a time when the world was supposed to be a happier place, when all those senseless evils in the world could be forgotten and the joy could come out. It might not always be true, but that's what it remained as in my head.

Today might be composed of that familiar disappointment. Alex could be cranky or his family could get in an argument. Maybe the hospital would need some extra hands for an emergency. It might happen, something definitely would, but for the time being I was going to be happy and enjoy the day, for as long as I could make it last.

So perhaps I looked like a freak with my joyous pancake and bacon making smile, but I didn't care so much right now. I flop the last pancake onto a plate, remove the rest of the bacon from the frying pan, and turn the oven off. Then walking out to the living room and plugging the Christmas tree in. The television gets switched on as I put a CD in the DVD player, a pleasant song sounding from softly from the speakers as Bing Crosby sings about "Walking in a Winter Wonderland."

I turn and find Amber now awake, looking at me with bleary, mildly annoyed eyes. "I should have expected this," she groans, rolling and laying her head in a pillow.

"I made bacon," I tempt, hoping her appetite was like her brother's in the way her manner of waking up was. "And pancakes too. You get your mom up and I'll go force Alex out of bed." In all actuality I should be exhausted. In fact, I shouldn't have even wanted to of gotten out of bed this morning when I woke up a little after six. My adrenaline fueled me past any recognition of exhaustion however, getting me up and to the kitchen after only a couple minutes of laying there, trying to force myself back to sleep.

I smile mischievously as I walk into our bedroom, seeing Alex sleeping away soundly, even snoring a little from how he lay face down in the bed, sprawled out so I couldn't have gotten back in bed had I wanted to. I jump, landing my light body next to him, a foot catching his leg as I land. "Uh," he mutters, opening his eyes to see me, staring down with a very excited smile, and then closing them again.

Rolling my eyes I climb on top of him, sitting my body on his back and straddling my legs around him. "Oh, Alex," I call in a singsong voice. "The sun is up and it is Christmas. I get to celebrate now."

"You're impossible," he complains, rolling me off of his back as turns to lay on it. "Utterly impossible."

"And I'm also a wonderful wife who has cooked a delicious breakfast involving pancakes and bacon," I tempt, raising my eyebrows at him in challenge to just try and deny my cooking. We both knew he never did any good with that.

"Just think," he comments, opening his eyes to me. "All next week, instead of you putting so much energy into cooking, it can all be focused into...other areas." I laugh, leaning in to kiss him, beginning our practice for extensive "other area of activity" expenditure.

"Indeed we will," I agree, pulling away for a second before falling back into his lips. I fight off any urges and pull away again, for good this time. "But right now we're going to get up and eat the lovely breakfast I prepared and then open gifts, got it?"

He rolls his eyes at me, thankfully my efforts taken effect as he looks far more awake. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." I hop off the bed cheerily, going to the door in order to go back to the kitchen and begin serving breakfast. He beats me first though, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back to him before I can make it out. "Never said I was done with you yet."

I giggle as he kisses me, my hands wandering up to his hair as his began wandering south. He squeezes my ass and I pull away with a stern look before he can keep going any further, distracting us even more from our current plans. "Do you want your breakfast to get cold?" I ask, arms crossed over my chest. I had to admit, it took a lot to keep this stern look on my face when I all wanted was to pull him into bed and have hot sex. Hot, Christmas sex, technically. We'd have to reserve that for next year, unfortunately.

"If it means other things will be getting hot," he answers. I smack his arm and shake my head, finally walking out of the room while he gets himself dressed. He was twelve years old some days, honestly.

Alex's mom looks almost frightened sitting at the breakfast table. It was a shame, she'd seem pretty...normal when she had gotten here, but now she was reduced to a far less intact person. I knew the change of surroundings threw of schizophrenics, made them more likely to resign from the real world, resist their medications, and have more angry outbursts, but I'd still hoped I would have been able to get to know his mom, the real one, a little bit better. What I had learned of the woman was that she was very sweet when in her right mind.

"Merry Christmas," I say happily, keeping my voice low to not startle the woman any further. Amber was awake now, easily revived from sleep after a couple of minutes. Which wasn't surprising considering how early she normally got up. I knew she must have been tired, because all other mornings she'd just about beaten me at. I wondered how much sleep she was getting. However, with the way her mum snored I wasn't too surprised.

"It'll be merry when we can eat," Amber says, looking up at me hopefully.

"As soon as your brother gets out here," I say with a little extra volume for his sake. The syrup and butter have been placed on the table by someone already, and a cup of coffee already say prepared in my spot. So I sit, smiling gratefully at Amber as I sip the liquid, the rich taste drawing a quiet "mm" from me, due to the new creamer I'd managed to find when out shopping with Amber a couple of days ago. Who knew they made flavors such as White Chocolate Raspberry and Peppermint Mocha? What I did know was that they were both utterly delicious.

"I'm here," he says, rubbing a hand over his face as he sits. I laugh at the little section of hair standing up on the back of his head, standing up and running a hand over the spot to try and smooth it. He swats my hand away and looks around at three of us. "Are we waiting for something or can I eat?" he asks, looking with anticipation on the pancakes.

"Merry Christmas to you too," Amber answers, rolling her eyes as she snatches a piece of bacon. "And I call first dibs."

"Yeah right," is his response, digging into the food just as she does, loading his plate with what he could.

I spare a quick glance to their mother, not thinking anything of it as my eyes fall on her for a second. I laugh out loud at the expression on her face though, causing the other two to stop and turn to look. "I raised wolves, didn't I?" she asks, lucid and aware for a moment. Alex and Amber look to one another and then to their plates, joining in on my laughter at just how right their mother was.

9:16 AM

"So..." Amber says as she wipes off the final dish and puts it away, now able to navigate my kitchen quite well after spending a week in it. She folds the towel in half, hanging it over the oven door handle to dry and leans against the counter as she brushes some hair from her face and yawns. "Time for gifts yet?" she asks, sounding genuinely excited. I wondered to myself when the last real Christmas she had was. Had she been a little girl or living in a foster home? Had her mother given her a Christmas last year or had she made it herself or maybe they just didn't have it all. Regardless of what the situation might be on the matter, I was happy that she seemed excited, that'd been my goal all along.

"I vote yes," I say with a smile, still unsure of my less than ideal gifts for Alex. Hopefully he'd gotten stuck himself, buying me lingerie or flour or something, then at least we could be even. We all follow into the living room and Alex folds up the bed, remaking the couch for people to sit on. I take a seat right on the floor, leaning back against the couch so my back wouldn't get tired.

The gifts under the tree had accumulated to a surprisingly large amount, many in the back to be handed out to other people, but still. I've forgotten all about the stockings, and the fact that Alex and I had purchased some crap to stuff in there, until he carries them over, handing them out to their respectful owner. He comes and sits next to me on the floor, Amber following and sitting across from us and his mother doing the same.

"I go first!" I declare, grabbing the present that sat on top, wrapped either by Alex or a two year old, from the look of it. I rip it open, laughing as I hold up a box of cookies. "'Cause we didn't already have enough?" I ask with an eye roll, admittedly amused by his gift. I go to set the present down when something else catches my eye. I shoot Alex an accusing eye as I open the box, only to see it half empty. "Seriously?" I ask, trying really hard to be annoyed but laughing all the same. If nothing else I could relax over my gifts to him.

"Alright, I'm going," his sister says as she peels off her paper, revealing...the headphones we'd bought for Cristina. "Um, thanks?" she answers, probably because in the whole time she'd been here I hadn't once seen her with any sort of portable music device, let alone listening to any music in the first place.

Picking up my trash I wield it at Alex's head, getting an offended, "Hey!" in protest. "It's not my fault..."

"I told you to put to and from stickers on them," I say, exasperated. "Clearly you can see why now." I shake my head as I crawl over to beneath the tree, searching for the gift to Cristina, thankfully these he has labeled. I pull it out and toss it in Amber's general direction. She raises an eyebrow at us and opens the gift, this time finding a pair of gloves.

Sweet, thanks," she says, tossing the headphones back in our direction as rips the tag off of her gloves and pulls them on, flexing her fingers. "Mom's turn," she suggests. His mom takes a gift from her own stocking and opens it, a bottle of lotion from Bath and Body Works in her hand. She smiles, flicking open the top and taking a whiff of it. She wasn't an easy woman to buy for, forcing me to fall back on many generic items. Such as lotion, candles, and a blanket. They weren't very personal, but since most of what she did, according to Amber, consisted of sleeping, I didn't it'd matter all that much.

"Okay, you go," I tell Alex, giving him a nudge. He pulls his first gift out, making a show of running his hands along it to try and figure out what it is. Finally he rips the paper off, tossing it aside as he studies the object.

"Orabrush?" he asks, giving me a questioning look. "What the hell is it?" He flips it over, reading the information, shooting me a look when he realizes what it is.

"What?" Amber asks, jumping up and grabbing the package, laughing when she discovers it's purpose.

"It was either that or mouth wash," I say with a shrug, handing his tongue cleaner back to him. I'd bought it as a joke, due to all of my morning complaints of his breath. "You had garlic on your breath two days after we had that lasagna," I remind him. "I'm the one who has to kiss it, you clean it."

He glares at me and I laugh, the item had followed through on it's intended purpose, which was making me laugh at his response, though I did still hope he'd actually use it. For my sake. "Gee thanks so much," he says sarcastically, making me laugh even more. Eventually he gives in, stopping his glare and smiling at me. I lean in and kiss him, unable to resist, which quickly earns us an "Ew" from Amber.

"Do me a favor and don't thank each other for every gift like this," she asks as we pull apart.

"Would you rather we go in the kitchen?" Alex asks with raised eyebrows, referring to our little incident a week ago when she'd found us in a somewhat compromising position. The memory made me cheeks flush, grateful she hadn't walked in on anything more in that department.

"God no," she responds, and we carry on with the gifts, continuing on in our little circle. We make it through the silly little gifts in each of the stockings, the living room now covered in a layer of wrapping paper, mildly reminiscent of the snow covered ground outside.

"Time for the good stuff," Alex says as he gets up and finds the gifts we had gotten for his mom and hands them to her. She smiles happily at her blanket, and her reaction to the necklace we'd bought her was unexpected, she tears up and pulls her oldest son in for a hug. He relents, hugging her back after a second. "Merry Christmas, Mom," I hear him say quietly, unable to stop the smile that forms on my face from watching the moment between the two of them. All of those years and Christmases without seeing one another, it must be nice to be together and set all of that anger and bitterness aside, even if it was just for a week.

"Alright, my turn," Amber says, getting up and passing a wrapped box to Alex and I. "It's really not much..." she warns, nervously rubbing the back of her neck.

I laugh out loud as Alex and I tear off the paper, unearthing the present beneath it all. The game, "Operation" sat in front of us, covered in shiny new cellophane. "You shouldn't have," Alex says with a mock tone of impressiveness in his voice. I laugh again, picking it up and looking it over. I remembered playing this game years ago.

"Well, you all are hard to buy for," she answers with a shrug. "It's not like I'm made of money."

"I love it," I say, beginning to peel the packaging off to see what there was inside. It was much like the Christmases I had as a kid, where I would insist on opening and using each gift individually before moving on to the next. It turned into a very long process, taking up almost the entire morning even if the gifts had been sparse most years. Thankfully, my mother was a patient woman when she had a glass of wine in her hand, letting me do as I pleased. "Maybe this is one surgery we can beat Cristina at," I suggest to Alex, excited at the prospect of inviting my friends over, if not for some corny board game night, then just for the sake of being able to have them over at my place, with my consent, when I wasn't half dead from chemo.

"It is better than an _Orabrush_ at least," Alex says, accentuating the word Orabrush to me.

"Ha," Amber answers to Alex, turning her nose up in the air like she had just proven a point. He rolls his eyes as he picks our gift up to her and tosses it in her direction. I gasp as he does, disbelieving he'd really do something like that with the ridiculously expensive thing. Thank god she caught it. She raises an eyebrow as she feels through the paper and shakes it against her ear, trying to figure out what the item was. "I'm a little concerned," she comments.

"Oh, just open it already," Alex says impatiently and looking over to his mom for a second. She was still sitting on the floor, messing with packing on her necklace in order to try and get it out.

My attention focuses back on Amber as she rips open her gift. I worry for a second that she'll hate it. After all, it wasn't exactly a common Christmas gift, especially to a teenage girl. It had just seemed like such a good idea at the time, as I stood around just trying to think of a single thing she liked. I had known far less of her then. It was amazing how much she'd changed in the past few days, just in how she talked to us alone.

"Oh my god!" she exclaims, practically squealing as she looks down at the item in her hands. "These things are so expensive. You shouldn't have!" she says, just like her brother a few minutes ago, only she sounded extremely sincere as she looks down at her gift. "This is one of the nicest graphing calculators out there, too," she explains as she looks the package over. She looked about ready to open it up now, just like me as a kid.

"I really did not think Izzie knew what she was talking about when she said to buy you a calculator for Christmas," he says shaking his head in the memory that had been us arguing over if it was a legitimate present or not. Alex tried to say it was like giving her the gift of school, but after much debating, and occasional shouting, we reached a conclusion. "You definitely just proved me wrong, you weirdo."

She ignores his teasing altogether as she looks the device over, somehow already having gotten the box open and the instructions in her hand as she reads through them. "You guys are the best," she smiles, getting up on her knees to lean forward enough in order to hug us, we meet her halfway. It felt strange, feeling her hug me after remembering how much she utterly despised me at the beginning. I still couldn't believe we'd gotten here, to a place where we laughed and hugged. How odd.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be over in China, being studied or something?" Alex questions as we watch her face light up when she presses the power on button. "Maybe we should just take you up to the fifth floor instead."

"Haha, go get me some double A batteries while you think of your next quip, why don't you?" she asks as she reverently removes the back of the device, careful not to bend or break anything.

"First I just about have to sell an organ on the black market to buy that thing and now I have to give you batteries for it too," Alex jokes as dumps the batteries on her lap before coming to sit next to me again, taking my hand in his and smiling. He was happy that she liked her present.

"Alright, I want my gift now," Alex says, holding his hands out expectantly as he looks at me. I sigh, biting my lip as I get up to dig his gift out from underneath the tree. It was the one "big thing" I had gotten for him to go along with all of the little, random stuff I'd stuck in his stocking; like the Orabrush and razor blades. It wasn't much still, but I had to hope he'd like it.

"Just so you know, you're extremely hard to buy for," I grumble as I hand the tiny looking present to him. "And it's more of the kind of thing I'd like than you..."

He laughs at that. "So you bought a gift for yourself and put my name on it, huh?" he pulls the paper off, revealing a crystal, snowflake ornament. He lifts it up to examine it, on it was engraved "Alex and Izzie – 2008."

"I just figured, since you don't have any special ornaments and all, that maybe I could...get you one." I sigh, giving up and hanging my head in defeat. "I'll get you something better for your birthday," I try and promise.

"Iz," he says to stop me. "I love it." I smile, finally relaxing now that I knew he didn't hate the rather feminine gift I'd gotten him.

"You're impossible to buy for, just so you know," I tell him as he kisses me in gratitude. "But I'm glad you like this."

"It's great, really." I sigh, glad that that part was over with. He gets up and searches for a spot on the tree before hanging it right in front of a light so it streamed through the ornament, giving off a beautiful effect. I smile at it, hoping to have created a bit of a tradition, now that I was older it was time to move past the old Barbie ornaments my mom used to get for me. "Your's now," he says, going back behind the tree where a rather large gift sat. I pull my legs up in a crisscross to make room for it on the floor. He lays it in front of me and I look at him for permission before tearing in.

My gasp can be heard as I peel the paper away, revealing one of mine and Alex's wedding photos redone as a canvas portrait. "Oh my god," I whisper, pulling the paper off the rest of the way and lifting the picture up. It wasn't one of our posed photos, instead one that the photographer must have shot at some point when neither of us had been aware he was there. Alex and I were smiling at each other, me caught in mid-laugh. His arm was wrapped around his waist, probably supporting me before I fell to the floor that day. My wedding dress somehow still sparkled in the painting, you could almost see the light bouncing off of it. "It's perfect," I tell him, tearing my eyes away from the portrait to look at him, tears pooling and falling before I can even gather why.

His smile is breathtaking, totally worth every tear that falls, but he reaches out and wipes them for me. "Don't go messing it up," he says in response. I set it carefully on the floor before gently assaulting his lips with mine.

I let out an odd sounding sob/laugh and throw my arms around him. "Thank you," I whisper into his ear, wiping my tears one final time before pulling away. "Now we need to decide where to hang it," I say, looking around out currently fully decorated apartment. "Maybe we should wait until we've taken all this down," I suggest, as I wasn't about to go hanging it in the hallway where no one could see it. It'd be the sort of thing they wouldn't have a choice but to see when they walked in the house.

"You two sure get emotional," Amber comments, fingers moving along on her graphing calculator.

"You just stay over there and enjoy your nerdy little toy," Alex answers, kissing my cheek. "Don't expect this good of a gift every year," he warns me and I laugh.

"Deal."

1:54 PM

"Ugh, Alex!" I yell as his hand twitches and sets the buzzer off, causing us to lose this round. "Why are they letting you operate on people again?" I ask as I lay my head in my hand. We were losing. Us, two surgeons at Seattle Grace Hospital, were losing a game called Operation to a sixteen year old math fanatic and her schizophrenic mother. Something was wrong with this picture, and it wasn't the fact that I was on this team.

"It's not like this is an accurate replication," he answers in frustration, ignoring his sister who was very obviously gloating. "Besides, since when were you Yang when playing a game?"

I exhale a laugh. "If I were Yang, you and I would be divorced right now with how you're playing." Amber laughs, nodding her head in agreement. I remembered playing this game as a child, it had seemed hard then, but now was exceptionally simple. Apparently not the same could be said for all of us.

Someone knocks at the door and Alex and I exchange a confused look, neither of us having expected anyone to come. I get up to answer, thinking it might be George and not wanting Alex to attack him. He follows though, walking with me to the door almost like something evil would jump out at me. I wondered for a brief moment if he thought there was a chance it could be his father. After everything that had happened concerning that man this past week, I would not have been surprised.

When I swing the door open though, it's not some angry looking man or George standing there. Instead, for god knows what reason, it was Hannah, her bald head covered by a winter hat, with a plate of cookies held in her hands, extended toward us. "Merry Christmas," she mutters, looking down at the floor rather than Alex or I.

"Hannah," he says, smiling brightly at the girl. "How are you feeling? Second round of chemo in four days, right?" She looks up at him, seemingly contemplating on responding or not before shrugging her shoulders and picking her head up to look at the both of us.

"Yeah, it sucks, but no brain surgery, right?" I'm surprised by her outright answer, even giving a small smile to him. Somewhere along the way, all of that anger and disappointment she'd been feeling toward him must have dissipated, or at least been buried beneath Christmas excitement. "Um, these aren't as good as your's, of course, but I made some cookies myself the other night and thought...you might like to try them?"

I take a deep breath, refraining from crying, or pulling this girl into my arms and holding her to me as I should have so many times throughout her life. I hold it all in, smiling instead, so grateful to have her in front of my door, living in the same city as me, with the briefest possibility that she and I could possibly be something more than strangers.

"I'd love them, of course," I answer, taking the plate from her hand. I was curious to see if my baking talents had been passed on to her as well. I had to be honest, I felt it was part talent and part all of the practice my mother and I had done together when I was younger. Had I been around when she was younger maybe she really could be an excellent little baker. "Do you want to come in?" I offer, stepping aside so she could. Hopefully Alex's mum wouldn't throw anything or talk to the air next to her.

"I...probably shouldn't. My mom's waiting for me downstairs," she answers, looking back to the floor. "But, um, thanks for offering. Maybe another time."

"Yeah definitely," I say, nodding probably a little too much. "Go put some cookies on a plate to take home." I direct Alex as I hand him the tray she's given me, before turning back to her. "Was your Christmas good?" I ask awkwardly, trying to make small talk with someone who I still wasn't too sure liked me or not.

"I guess," she shrugs again. "I uh, got an iPod. So, that's cool." She takes a deep breath, probably trying to calm the same nerves I was feeling. It was an odd sort of meeting, neither of us the least bit comfortable with it. "What'd you get?"

"Oh," I say, smiling now as I remember. "Just wait one second." I make sure she has the door propped open as I walk a few paces into the apartment, grabbing my portrait from the careful perch on the couch and carrying it back. "Alex had this made for me." I present it to her, my face alight with the excitement for getting to show it off for the first time.

"Wow," she breathes, a hand ghosting out to not quite touch the surface of the canvas, hovering a mere centimetre away. "It's really beautiful," she says. "Your wedding dress was gorgeous."

"Wasn't it?" I agree, probably sounding a little vaunt in my answer. "It was perfect," I agree, losing myself for a brief moment in memory of the day. My whole life had gone from this depressing, hopeless feeling to one of utter joy in that moment when Alex had walked in, adorn in a tux. I'd signed up for forever with him and the prospect was still one of the most brilliant things, especially now with the potential for it to actually happen.

"Cookies," Alex announces as he walks back over and hands them to her, smiling at what I held in my hands. "Showing it off already, huh?" he asks, causing me to smile and blush in response. It was the wedding ring that I got to show off and have us both be proud of, though I still took pride in my tacky, vending machine ring. It still perfect in my mind.

"Thank you," Hannah murmurs, taking a step away to leave.

"Merry Christmas," I tell her before she can get too far away. "Thanks for coming to stop by."

"Maybe I'll come visit when you start your next treatment, if that's okay," Alex tells her, transferring it to a question. I knew he was seeking for her approval after the ordeal in the store a few days before. The fact that she was here today still didn't seem real. Her short phone call wasn't very existent in my mind either, actually.

"Well I need someone to talk to," she answers, smiling at him as she looks over her shoulder to the elevator. "Merry Christmas!" she calls after us as she walks away. I watch her board the elevator and then close the door, leaning against it and closing my eyes, portrait still held in my hand.

"You okay?" Alex asks, kissing my forehead. I open my eyes and stare at him, a smile spreading across my face, probably causing my eyes to crinkle in the corner.

"She talked to us, Alex. She came to our house, gave us cookies, and talked to us." I shake my head, still in disbelief over the matter. She couldn't ever be my daughter, not really. I'd given up that right years ago, but she could be something else, someone I knew and who knew me. A girl who knew no one had ever given her away because of a lack of love or adoration. A daughter who couldn't technically be mine, but of who maybe I could have just a little piece of her life to share.

10:14 PM

"There," I declare as I step away, having undecorated a bit in order to hang my portrait. We settled for the wall our stockings had been hanging on, centered at eye level on the wall it was easily the focal point. As another future hope I imagined it hanging in above our fireplace in our own house, maybe somewhere next to portraits of our children. "Good?" I ask Alex, who had been my hanging director. We didn't have anything fancy like a lever, so we were doing it by eye and hoping for the best right now. Worst came to worst we'd just make another hole we'd have to spackle at some distant point in our life. Right now, this was home. So we would make it just that.

"Perfect," he answers, looking over his shoulder before grabbing me around the waist and kissing me like there was no tomorrow. I respond with vigor, keeping in mind that we were driving his family to the airport tomorrow and then I could finally rip off his clothes in a passionate frenzy as I force him into the bedroom and make endless love with him. Until then, I'd settled for his heavy, loving kisses in the living room.

"I do have a gift for the two of you, you know," his mom says from behind us, making us jump apart, though not as drastically as the day Amber had caught us. "You were so busy before...I didn't want to interrupt."

"You should have said something," Alex answers as she walks into the living room, not pulling a gift out from the tree but instead handing us a small, unwrapped jewelery box. "Mom, you didn't have to get us anything."

"Just open it," she insists, sounding much like a mother in her answer. We do as she says, Alex lifts the cover, a beautiful diamond ring perched in the middle of the box. "It was your grandmother's," his mom says, the two of us still in shock as we look at it. It was no simple ring, and considering the time period it'd been made in, I would say that meant something.

The circle was made up of a delicate connection of hearts and leaves, tiny diamonds holding them together. On top was a larger diamond, held in carefully by four prongs. The light sparkled off of it, giving a gorgeous glistening look. "It's hardly right for her to be wearing some cheap ring from a vending machine in the grocery store," his mom critiques. "Listen, if you two don't like it we can go pawn it and get something else."

I hesitate not a second longer as I throw my arms around her in gratitude, thrown off by the utter, unexpected beauty of the gift. Honestly, I hadn't been expecting anything from her at all. It had seemed for most of the time that she'd been here that she'd either been sleeping or living in some imaginary world unknown to the rest of us. After her second outburst I'd think we'd all sort of just, written her off and left her to be as is. Maybe she hadn't been quite as out of it as we'd all thought, and if that were true I felt pretty rotten, especially with this gorgeous ring being presented to us.

"But what about Amber?" I ask, wiping my eyes for the second time that day. What happened to getting gifts like iPods or Xboxes? They were far less emotional things to receive. "Won't she want the ring one day?"

"Whoever she marries can be the one to give her a ring. You and Alex got married, somehow, so he gives you this ring." I smile, shaking my head in utter awe as Alex pulls his mom in for a hug next. "Grandma would have wanted you to have it," she assures him, patting his cheek like a mother to a son as they pull away. "Now go on."

She steps back as Alex actually gets down on one knee, giving me my first proper proposal, even though a ring already sat on my finger and my wedding dress had since been carefully packed away. "Izzie Stevens," he starts, his voice low as he presents the ring to me. I almost want to roll my eyes at it all, because it was so corny and unnecessary, but at the same time it was beautiful and I was a woman, so I was crying and smiling and falling completely in love with him all over again. "It is my honor to be your husband every day." I laugh, what an nontraditional proposal this was. "And I want continue to be, for the rest of our crazy, probably somewhat messed up, chaotic lives. So, will you stay married to me?"

My smile might just break my face as I answer simply with, "Forever."

**And there we have it! Technically, the final chapter of this story. However, my darling reviewer Jenna got this crazy idea rolling around in the heads of all of you. Now normally I'd say that a story needs to be left alone after awhile, to drop the stick before the horse is dead, but I still have a couple of things I wanted to do with this and since you all asked...I guess I can try? But here's the deal, I'll be uploading the day after since, obviously, I'm a bit behind. Meaning, the 26th will be uploaded on the 27th and the 27th on the 28th, so on and so forth. The final chapter will be New Years Eve, and then you all get an epilogue and I am declaring it finished for good after that.**

**I also can't assure there will be an update every day. I honestly don't know if I can keep doing this for much longer, because if I'm tired and worn out and probably developing fineritis or something, so if I miss a day, a day is missed and I can't handle feeling guilty about it. I will, however, try my best to avoid missing any days. **

**I hope you all had really lovely Christmases, and for those of you in school I hope that you are enjoying the remainder of your time off. Let me know if you enjoyed the A/I Christmas. I originally had it planned as the conclusion to the story, but I still think it works even if I tack on a few more days. Let me know what you want to see over the next few days, please and thank you, or else much of it could be gallons of mindless fluff with a little drop of plot thrown in.**

**Oh, also I need to address the requests I have gotten for an M rated chapter. I really am sorry all my lovely reviews, but I am afraid that this is something that I just do not feel comfortable doing, personally. I know the M rated stuff is big for a lot of the major chapter fics, and I see it a lot in many of the popular ones, but honestly I generally skip over them, and certainly could not imagine writing one myself. So I'm afraid for that you'll have to use your imagination for what happens between Izzie and Alex in the bedroom (or wherever else they may end up doing it.) I'm bringing this to a close now, and once again saying, I'll see you tomorrow!**


	26. Chapter 26

Alex – December 26th 10:13 AM

I stretch and let out a yawn as I wake up, surprised when my hand accidentally hits something else. I open my eyes to find Izzie rubbing her cheek in her sleep, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "Ow," she mutters, and had her eyes been open I'm sure I would have gotten an annoyed look. "Is this payback for how I woke you up yesterday or something?"

"Sorry," I whisper, rolling over and kissing her cheek. "Your face hit my hand." She opens her eyes into thin slits, looking out of them at me, before closing them again and shaking her head. "Sorry," I say again, a smile helplessly spreading across my face as I watch her, snuggling in deeper to her pillow and taking in a deep breath of air as she relaxes back into sleep, her breathing evening out as she dozes back off, most likely exhausted after yesterday's endless, and tiring events. Plus I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd hardly slept the night before, laying awake like an excited three year old.

I get out of bed carefully, trying not disturb her as I do. I stand there watching her, for just a minute as I try to convince myself it wasn't weird. In all honesty I did it all the time at the hospital. I couldn't remember how often I'd turn the TV on or bring some source material to study, only to ignore it all and fix my gaze on her, just so grateful she was alive for the moment. With the amount of near death encounters she seemed to have, it reminded me pretty often how happy I was to just have her around.

I walk into the bathroom to turn myself into someone a little less like Einstein, combing my hair and brushing my teeth. I relent and use Izzie's tongue thing. It feels weird, and I can't really tell if it's effective or not. I'd ask her, but I was still a bit offended that she'd bought it for me. I bother with nothing else as I wander out to the living room, finding the television on to the Regis and Kelly show, which my mom watched intently as my sister, oddly enough, sat there with a graphing calculator in one hand and a pad of notebook paper and pencil in the other.

"Ready to go home today, weirdo?" I ask as I sit down next to her, glancing at her notebook to see if I understood any of it. I didn't.

"From the looks of things out there, we might just be stuck here a while longer," she answers. I furrow my eyebrows, confused with what she's said. Why would they be stuck here? The 26th was the day they were going home. Unless...

The sight out the window confirms my fears, heavy snow falling and coating the deserted roads. "Damn it," I mutter leaning my forehead against the window pane, trying not to just start banging it against the wall. I loved my sister, and my mom maybe wasn't as crazy as I'd thought, but their trip was over. They needed to freaking leave.

Izzie's asleep again as I walk back into our bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I flop back down on the bed, feet hanging off the end, and stare at her for just a second before waking her. "Iz," I say, nudging her. "We have a problem."

"Unless it involves potential death, I don't really care," she murmurs, laying her face in her pillow to block out the light as she groans. "In fact, even if it does involve potential death, I still don't care."

"Oh there's definitely the potential for death," I answer. My death, suicidal, of course. "Because a foot and a half of snow is covering damn Seattle and no flights will be going out anywhere!" I was sure this was usually the time most people would be happy, getting to have an extended vacation and all, only this was not my vacation, this was their's. For me it was work, and with only three more days off, I would like to actually have a day off.

She opens her eyes and looks at me, still so tired that she looks about ready to doze back off. I regret having woken her up, remembering that, out of all of us, she needed and deserved the most sleep. Less sleep meant a worn down immune system which gave a greater chance for an infection to set in. So, I should let her sleep. But first I needed her to tell me there was some other way we could get my family out of our apartment if their flight got canceled. We could sell them our car and let them drive home, for all I care.

"You're kidding me, right?" she groans, now pulling herself up into a sitting position as she draws her knees to her chest and lays her head on them. "I love them, I really do, but they need to get the hell out of our house," she answers, sounding a lot like my thoughts on it.

"Couldn't agree more." We look at each other, both trying to think of a way, anyway to get them home even if their flight was canceled. Obviously, neither of us was coming up with anything.

"Maybe it'll stop. Their flight isn't until later anyhow," she reminds me and I nod, finding her answer reassuring. We needed these three days together. We needed some time where our lives didn't have to revolve around cancer or Christmas or family or work. All I wanted was to just have some time to be us, and to be together, and to be happy. That was all, and it wasn't much to ask, I didn't think, but at this rate we wouldn't be getting any of that until we both retired.

"And if it doesn't?" I ask, hoping she could answer that somehow. Because personally I was really looking forward to our hot and passionate sex later today. "What do we do if they're stuck here?"

She sighs, letting her body fall against mine so we both sink back onto the bed, sideways. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tiny body on top of mine. Considering all of the cookies she'd eaten in the past couple weeks you'd think she might have managed to gain back some of her weight, but no, she looked and felt just as malnourished as ever. It worried me, how little she was. When she was better and we were older and our metabolisms had slowed and she'd had four kids, I don't know if I could ever mind her being a little overweight. At least I didn't have to wonder if she'd drop from low blood pressure and glucose levels.

"We pretend we're happy to get to spend another day with them," she answers, heaving a sigh. "And then we make sure they have a flight nice and early tomorrow." I sigh, trying to hold her tighter as she attempts to get up, not yet willing to sacrifice her and go face the real world. "I need to shower," she complains as she tries to wriggle out of my arms, laughing as I constrict her more tightly. "Alex!"

"You need to promise something before I can let you go anywhere," I taunt her, hands ghosting along her abdomen which produces a throaty laugh. I hoped to hear that sound many more times over the next twenty four hours, my bodily needs not wanting to be denied any longer.

"And what would that be?" she teases back, craning her neck to look up at me where I see the smirk planted on her face. I roll her over and lay some of my weight on her, effectively trapping just as my arms had before, but now allowing me access to her lips, kissing the smirk right off of them. She groans, forgetting all about a shower as my lips travel down her neck, finding her collar bone and exposed shoulder. What with Amber doing math and my mother watching television they probably wouldn't hear...

With that thought I travel a little further down, hand all ready to pull up her tank top and reveal her breasts, before she swats my hand away, a smile growing on her face. "Patience," she instructs. I roll off of her and lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking of how sick I was of being patient. I swear to god if they didn't leave today...

She takes her free opportunity and gets up from the bed, hastily wrapping a scarf unnecessarily around her head before pulling a change of clothes from the drawer. "Tonight," she says, turning to me before she leaves. "That's my promise."

I get up shortly after she leaves as I hear the water from the shower start to run. I'd have to keep track of the flights somehow, which wouldn't be easy without internet. Something we still lacked around here. I walk back out to the living room, finding everything the same. In the kitchen dirty dishes sit in the sink, Amber clearly having taken it upon herself to feed her and Mom. Thank god, because I would not have been happy to of had to feed them, like they were my kids or something. They're leaving today, I just had to remember that.

My usual cereal has been eaten by someone, someone who I'd dare say might have a name that started with A, so I settle on some of Izzie's stuff. I had to admit though, the look of it as I pour milk over the stuff had me a little concerned. "So," I say as I flop myself down on the couch next to Amber and her complex math equations. "Are you totally picked on at school for this?"

She rolls her eyes, taking a look at my breakfast and wrinkling her nose. "For your information, Mr. Doctor, I am one of the coolest mathletes there." I scoff, choking on my cereal in response. "That's what you get." She points a pencil in my face to make the point.

"Just for future reference, cool and mathlete can't be in the same sentence."

12:46 PM

Izzie stared out the window. The snow had finally stopped but the roads were still covered. A plow truck had even been down our street once yet, due to the fact that we lived off a back road and all I was sure. I knew the car wouldn't be able to handle driving through this, so even if their flight wasn't canceled we'd still be stuck here unless a plow truck came through.

She was tired today, I was sensing that since she'd gotten up. She hadn't cooked anything or started any more games of Operation. She hadn't even been chatting that much. I was worried, but just wrote it off as her being tired and left it at that, hopeful that if it was anything more she'd talk to me. If all else failed we could always go for another hospital field trip. Talking to George and Meredith always perked her up.

"I love snow," she mutters, drawing a heart with her finger along the condensation from the window.

"I hate snow," Amber replies, shuddering dramatically from the thought of it. "It's so...cold and wet and-"

"Magical. Snow is magical." Izzie stares outside, watching the kids across the street run around having a snowball fight. "We should do that," she says absentmindedly to herself. She knew as well as the rest of us that we wouldn't be going outside to play in the snow anytime soon. Besides, it was too damn cold for a snowball fight, or anything else outdoors.

"Let's not and just, say we did," Amber answers with a shrug, like she'd found an actual solution. I roll my eyes, frankly just wanting something to eat or an answer on when I'd finally be getting my family out of my house. This feeling of being trapped was starting to get to me. Either the roads needed to be clear enough for us to go out, or their flight needed to still be taking off today.

"I bet there's a lot of good surgeries today, huh?" Izzie asks, getting up from her perch by the window and walking over to where I sit on the couch. "I'm sure everyone's fighting to get their hands on a really good surgery. Cristina's probably in heaven right about now."

"And we're here," I want to finish with, but I don't. It was true though. Hopefully next year we would be apart of it, working in the pit as dozens of car crash victims rolled in. I can't say the idea didn't brighten my day, as sick and demented as that made me. "I wonder if any really good surgeries have come in yet?"

"And you call me weird?" Amber asks with a raised eyebrow. She'd hardly set her calculator down all day, and personally I was beginning to get concerned, thinking we should have bought her an Xbox or something. "You two talk about people dying like it's...no big deal or something."

"People die every day, Amber," Izzie answers, sounding just a little too morbid for my taste. It was almost like she was pointing out her own mortality with that statement.

"I guess, but it's not like something to be excited about normally." I sigh, knowing this was one of those things, a thing where someone else could only get it if they lived it too. That's why Izzie and I could work together as a married couple and not have to strive as other couples. We got the crazy work schedules and the weird impulses and the need to cut. We both lived it, so we could both get it. People outside that circle though, it just didn't work as well with them.

"It's about the learning," I answer simply instead, not up for a fight.

"Mer just said all flights have been delayed two hours," Izzie says as she looks up from her phone. "So your guys' flight should be at nine now." We look at each other and take a deep breath. We'd make it till nine, and after that, well, we'd make it when it was all over too.

8:12 PM

"Alright," I say as we hand over their last bag to be checked, leaving them nothing to do but go through security. "I guess we should...say goodbye." It was awkward, this whole bye to my family deal. I'd seen it done before, sure, but I didn't really know what you were supposed to do exactly. Hopefully Izzie would take charge, or else this could be as disastrous as the time I tried to ask her to "go steady."

"It was _really_ nice getting to know you," Izzie says, sincerity in her voice as she firsts hugs my mom. I hear her whisper another thank you in her ear, probably in reference to the ring that now adorned her finger. Next she turned to Amber, the girl who had hated our guts, cursed and glared at us, and wanted nothing to do with either her or me, now had tears in her eyes. I didn't know if I could do tears, they'd leave me feeling all guilty and next thing you know we'd be making promises to do this again "soon." Whatever the hell that would mean. Either way, any promise of soon was just not going to be fulfilled.

When Izzie pulls away Amber hesitates no more than a second before flinging her arms around me. It was like she was ten years old again, greeting me after my absence from when I'd gone to college. She'd held onto me like I was her big protector, returning to save her from all of the evils. Now she was saying goodbye, aware for the first time of when I was leaving, instead of my just disappearing on her. "Don't wait so damn long next time, alright?" I can hear the tears in her voice, and I can't help it when my resolve disintegrates and my arms wrap tightly around my little sister, getting to be her protector for just a second more.

"Wouldn't dare," I answer as she pulls away, mumbling about something being stuck in her eye as she rubs at them. "Now go be a contradictory cool mathlete." I hug my mom next, grateful for the tight squeeze she gives me, like I'm the five year old she's proudly putting on the bus for the first time again.

"I don't know how you did it," she says, stepping away and patting my cheek, feeling very much like a mother. "But you managed to turn out good." I shrug, smiling because I know she's not talking about my impressive, and quickly advancing career, but to the lovely girl standing next to me with tears in her own eyes. I didn't know how I'd done so well either, in all truth.

We all say our final goodbyes before they step in line to get through security, Amber handing over the ticket and ID Mom would need. She'd go home and things would still be the same, it was how things worked. But maybe they could get better, eventually. If nothing else, with brains like her's, she'd probably be getting a full ride scholarship to whatever college she wanted to go to.

"No more company for a year," I say as they get further along in the line, wrapping an arm around Izzie's waist.

"A year and a half," she barters as she lays her head on my shoulder. I watch as Amber directs my mom to take her shoes off, afraid for the second that she might refuse and cause a scene, it all goes well though. I exhale a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding in.

"No family for three years," I tack on, unwilling to do anything but visit them next time. In our own hotel room, when Iz was healthy, and we weren't dealing with six hundred other things at once.

"No family for Christmas for at least five." I smile, glad that she was going with me on this. It was time for us to be our own family, no one else butting in.

"So," I say as they finally get through the security line, disappearing beyond our line of vision. "Would you care to go home and fulfill some promises now?"

10:05 PM

I can hardly believe how late it is by the time we've finally gotten home. Because of the snow the traffic had been awful, forcing us to travel at a little more than a crawl all along the highway. Then Izzie had gotten hungry halfway home, forcing me to go through the Drivethru for Wendy's where we both got terribly greasy and unhealthy dinners. Which we of course consumed gratefully.

We were just walking through the door now, both of us exhausted as we throw off our winter apparel and kick our shoes next to the door. Izzie slumps against me as we walk into the house, pulling away to go in the kitchen and dump our trash. She tosses off her scarf, and it lands on the couch, as she makes her way to our bedroom. She goes into the closet, searches through for a second and comes back out with the lingerie held in her hands. She holds it up with a questioning look, checking to see if I was going to make her fulfill her promise. I take the material from her and just set it on the dresser, pulling her in for a hug. She was obviously exhausted, had been since she'd gotten up that day, and I'd be damned if our having sex was anything but incredible for her. It couldn't be incredible if she was half asleep though.

"We always have tomorrow," I say instead, not letting any disappointment show. If she wasn't over here begging me to take my clothes off, like she'd been for the past week with every opportunity she had, then we needed to wait until she slept.

If only she didn't start crying like she did now, this would be easier. "I'm sorry," she murmurs as I pull her against my chest and she sobs. "I want to, Alex. I really, really do."

"Iz," I say before she can go on any further. It was how I caught her attention, whenever she became too upset, and sometimes angry, I could say her little nickname, that one syllable that made me smile as I say it, and she'd stop, waiting for me to speak. Well, usually at least. "You can want it in the morning, and I'll definitely want it in the morning. So until then, let's calm down and go to sleep, okay?"

It didn't matter that I'd been waiting to be with my wife all day. I didn't even care that we'd pretty much spent the week keeping ourselves apart on account of this night being our chance. Normally it would bother me. Two years ago I would have been annoyed if a girl teased me along for a week and then claimed she was too tired to follow through on her promise. It wasn't the same with Izzie, of course not. With Izzie I forgot all about what I might want, or how I might feel. I just wanted her to be happy and healthy, and everything else was an afterthought, a moot point.

She eventually surrenders her tears, giving up on being miserable I guess, as she wipes them from her face and undresses quickly, climbing into bed in her underwear like she did so many nights when she was just too tired to bother with sweats or pajamas. Those nights usually happened shortly after coming home from chemo.

Climbing in next to her I pull her against me, kissing the top of her head and then peppering her neck with kisses. No sex foreplay or teasing bites, just little presses of my lips along her exposed skin.

"Sometimes," she starts, head resting heavily on my chest. "Sometimes the days are good and I keep busy and I feel...unstoppable again, but then...then I'm so tired and weak, and the whole world of reality it just..." she pauses, breathing out and shaking her head slightly before pulling herself close to me. "It all comes rushing back really fast, that's all."

My hand goes up, running along the top of her head, brushing against her smooth skin. I hoped one day soon I'd be able to twist my fingers in her hair again, not for the sake of the feeling or the passion of running my hands through it as we kiss, but for the proof it would give me of her being healthy once again. It would happen, wouldn't it? Her getting better, it had to happen. "You're doing great, Iz," I reassure quietly. "You've kicked chemo's ass this past week. You're allowed to be a little tired."

Sometimes I just wish she'd give in a bit more even, let herself be weak and tired so I didn't have to worry about her quite so much. When I went back to work in a couple of days, she had to be capable of pacing herself while I wasn't here. I knew she wasn't a child, but she was Izzie, who had been entertaining my family for a few days now as well as running on very little sleep. I needed to make sure she knew to pace herself so I didn't have to spend every second at work, worrying about her. I kiss the top of her head and she sighs into me. Okay, every other second would still be better.

"I know," she yawns. I was pretty sure she'd be out cold in just a couple of minutes here. In all honesty, I didn't think I'd make it much longer myself, despite all of the sleeping in I'd gotten to do without work. We both needed time to recover from my family's visit, it would seem. "I just wish it was all...over. I just want it to be over."

I sigh, because I agree, because I want it over with too. I want her back at work with me, working next to me, not in a bed down the hall, and I want to not have to worry every time I hear a noise that sounds like something could be wrong, or I don't hear a noise for too long, telling me something could be wrong. I want to start a family and not plan a schedule around chemo treatments and surgeries. I didn't want to worry about sutures in her head injection sites from her IV as I helped her to the bathroom in the morning. I hated knowing that, in just a week, we'd be back in that hospital, starting right where we did at the beginning of this month, trying to go through it all again. It sucked, and I hated it, and she was right, that it should just be over already, but it couldn't be, not yet.

None of those words come out of my mouth though, not to her. Maybe in a couple of days to Meredith or maybe to no one, just sitting in my brain for me to think over and over. I'd normally say that sort of stuff to Izzie, but I needed to be strong for Izzie, even though it kind of sucked sometimes. "It will be," I promise instead. "It'll be over soon. We just gotta give it time, and if the chemo keeps working as well as it has..."

"What if it doesn't?" she asks, throwing me off completely. Was she really asking me what I would do if she died? What would I do if she died right now, in her sleep? The answer was obvious to me, very simple, actually. I'd die. I mean, not literally or anything, but all those things that make up the good side of Alex Karev, they'd be gone, buried with her. If anything happened to Izzie, every bad thing would be happening to me. It was a terrible prospect to face, the idea of being alive, but without her and also, without myself.

"Then they'll reevaluate the treatment," I answer instead. I wasn't going to deal with the dying question if it could be avoided, and I was really hoping right now that it could be avoided.

"You know what I mean, Alex." She sighs quietly, waiting for my response with patience. I didn't want to answer. I hated entertaining the thought even in the privacy of my mind, but speaking it aloud...I just didn't do that. _We _didn't do that. Things would get better, we would have fours kids and a big house, we'd get married and have the opportunity for forever to be real. That was what we believed, even when the diagnosis had been far more grim, even when every day was a question on whether or not she'd even wake up.

"I do know what you mean, but that's not going to happen." I stuck with our positivity, kept going for the irrational belief. The craziest thing to me about all of this sometimes, wasn't that I found myself willing to give up sex or skip a surgery to be around for her scans or was Mr. Positive all of a sudden, those were all baby steps compared to the stuff I did to try and keep her alive. I was bargaining, with _God _of all people, or spirits, or whatever the hell he was. I didn't pray, didn't go to church, didn't even believe in any supernatural being floating around making sure we did good stuff. It was all crap to me, made up stuff like Santa Clause to keep a society from getting out of control. But this sick woman laying in my arms made that change for me. I went to a church and prayed on lunch breaks some days. I laid awake and offered to stop cursing or looking at porn or whatever, if he was willing to keep her alive. I begged and I pleaded, and I didn't really think anyone was there, not when it was all said and done, but nevertheless I still did it, again and again. Only Izzie could draw that out of me. Only she could make me this sex giving up, positive, God praying, guy. "You know it, and I know it. You're gonna live."

"I know my scans were good Alex, but-"

I cut her off, she sounds so tired, like she didn't even have the fight in her, but for whatever reason was persistent with trying to torture me with these awful questions. I pull her away so she can look in my eyes, see their intensity as I stare into her tired ones. "Even if your scans were crap and there were tumors all over the place, you'd still live, Izzie. You and I, we're gonna have a life together, and I don't care what any doctor, scan, or cancer says otherwise. We get a life together."

"Okay," she answers quietly with a gentle nod. I let her lay back against me, grateful she has surrendered her depressing argument. I knew it had to be hard for her to look at the prospect of her own death, but for me it was damn near impossible. It hurt my heart to consider the idea of ever letting her go. It broke me to think if she ever felt even a fraction of that agony when Denny died. It was a terrible feeling, utter agony, and that was just in my thoughts and nightmares of experiences. I hoped I never had to deal with such pain in real life.

"And no backing out tomorrow," I tell her, smiling to let her know I was teasing.

"Wouldn't dare," is her final quiet murmur before she falls asleep, leaving me with the horrendous thought of her death still filling my mind.

**Day 26! It's happened, it's pretty late but it made it up, and I think I'm crazy for doing this still, lol. Thanks to everyone who left suggestions on some things that could be done over the next few days. I'll try and see what I can fit in to work with what I've already put together in my mind. Keep them coming if there's anything else you'd like to see, please. I'm glad you all are still willing and excited to read. After 150,000 words you all should be sick of me! Also, there's something hinky going on with fanfic right now so I can't respond to any reviews. Hopefully it will get finished soon so I can reply to the few of you who are signed in. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Warning: This chapter contains rather a lot of fluff. I mean, minimally plot developing, mindless fluff. Laying in bed fluff, cooking in the kitchen fluff, doing nothing fluff. It's just cavity inducing fluff for the most part. So if that sort of things bores you, feel free to leave and come back tomorrow. If not, do carry on.**

Izzie – December 27th 9:52 AM

I can't help but giggle, even if it was only five minutes after I've woken up, as Alex kisses all along my exposed stomach, his fingers inching their way across as he lightly tickles it. "I vote we don't get out of bed," Alex says, his lips making their way back up to meet mine again. "Just lay around, all day."

I roll my eyes, a response stuck in my throat as my lips are assaulted once again. "What about when we get hungry?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Not to mention the cleaning I need to do." I sigh, reluctant to do it but knowing I didn't have much time left. The Christmas decorations also, unfortunately, needed to come down or else they'd be up till the middle of next month.

"You can clean later, how often do we get to just lay here?" he asks, beginning his work once again on my chest. My bra was currently still intact, but I wasn't expecting that to last very long. Alex had woken up very...invigorated. He had gotten out of bed, brushed his teeth in order to avoid hearing my comments on his morning breath, and then once he was aware I was awake, began a very thorough job of covering many parts of my body with his lips. I had no intention of denying him what he'd been anticipating for so long, but also knew we couldn't spend a day doing nothing but that. There was too much that needed to be done!

"We can't lay around all day," I answer, trying to keep my train of thought as he sucks on a sensitive spot on my neck, sending tingles all through my body. Had I not had so much practice in not having sex recently I probably would have forgotten all about our conversation and just flipped him over right here and now. "As productive members of society we should probably accomplish something."

"Screw productivity," he murmurs in my ear, nibbling on my ear lobe for a second while his hands get to work elsewhere. My bra had maybe five more seconds before being discarded. "What's that thing, you know that people do where they don't get out of bed or do any work, because of religion?" he asks vaguely.

How was I supposed to know what that meant? I think with an eye roll. "Oh," I end up saying after a second, both in surprise as to where his tongue goes next as well as in realization as to what he was talking about. "I think you mean...the Sabbath?"

"Yeah, that thing," he answers, unfortunately stopping his work to speak. "We should start doing that more often."

"I'm pretty sure that the point of Sabbath is not to have sex all day," I answer. After all, if it was I'm sure far more people would be observing the weekly religious practice. "In fact, if I remember from Sunday school well enough, I'm pretty sex isn't aloud at all on the Sabbath."

"Hm," he mutters in thought. "Well we'll start our own religious event then," he shrugs, like it was an obvious answer. I groan, tired of this conversation now, having no desire to argue about whether I cleaned the bathroom or not today instead of just thinking about right now. Because right now was feeling pretty good and I'd be damned if I was distracted from it for a second.

"Whatever," I groan, using my feet to find the elastic waistband of his underwear and try to begin pulling them off, requesting their removal so I could have access to what I wanted right now. "Just...don't stop." I sigh, my head falling back as I get to do nothing for a second, his mouth still occupied. He laughs a throaty laugh as he does the exact opposite of what I just asked. "Alex!" I complain, annoyed as he moved back up to my breasts.

"You have to bargain with me if you want me to keep going," he teases, kissing my pouted lips and forcing them to respond eagerly. My legs try and straddle his waist and find some sort of grip, not much luck is found from doing so.

I surrender, heaving a sigh as he kisses my shoulder. "I solemnly swear to stay in bed with you until...noon if you would just go back to your...previous activity." He seems to contemplate as he sucks behind my ear, a hand running down to grab my ass.

"Keep going," he instructs. "I think I can get you to go higher than that." Well...if I saved cleaning the bathroom and vacuuming for tomorrow then maybe I could get a few extra hours here...I had to admit, staying in bed all day, doing this, sounded pretty damn good. "If you're going to be that stubborn then..." he says, lips traveling no where further down than my face and hands now in a more respectable spot on my back.

"Oh fine, I'll stay in bed until three," I agree, unwilling to wait much longer. I'd waited long enough while his family was here for god's sake. "But I'm exempt to eat and take bathroom breaks."

"Much better," he says with a mischievous smile, getting back to what he was doing before.

"But no more stopping," I sigh, more than happy with our little arrangement.

12:13 PM

So far in my day I'd had a banana, brushed my teeth, got dressed (and then removed such clothing not long after putting it on) and had sex, a lot of sex. It was noon, I wasn't feeling ill, and yet I hadn't really accomplished anything. Well, except for fulfilling a certain set of needs that weren't about to be denied much longer.

Now we were laying here, post-sex yet again, and I had a sheet covering most of me as I laid contently against Alex. I was pretty much willing to surrender the rest of my day now. I could take down Christmas decorations and clean the house tomorrow. Right now I'd spend time with my husband. Preferably, in bed without any clothes. I sigh, closing my eyes and listening to the heartbeat beneath where my ear lay. It was still a little fast paced, calming from moments before. If nothing else we were getting some good exercise here. His hand trails lazily along my back, having no real direction as it travels around. It was an action that both excited me, as well as just about lulled me into sleep. "This is nice," I sigh, unable to refrain the yawn that comes out.

"Hell yeah," he agrees. I'd miss him once he went back to work on Thursday. It was far too soon, I thought. We hardly got anytime alone between my re-admittance to the hospital and our lovely company. Too bad surgeons didn't get to take vacations very often. Hopefully we'd be able to play my cancer card again soon, get Alex a few more days off of work in a couple of months. If for no other reason than to give him the chance to rest for a couple of days. I couldn't ignore the exhaustion that was written all over his face on days when he worked and then took care of me all through the night as I puked and shook and cried. Some days I thought he must be living off solely caffeine.

"For once I'm not sick while we're in bed," I say, happy to think of a time when it would always be like that. One day, soonish, I'd be able to come home from work with Alex and we could fall into bed together, exhausted, but healthy as we fall asleep. No fear of being woken by the urge to vomit in the middle of the night or the threat of being admitted to the ICU. Just me, him, and mutual health.

"And there's nothing keeping me from doing what I just did," he adds, kissing lightly along the top of my head. I'd be happy when my health meant a head of hair too. No matter how often I told myself it wasn't necessary or how many times I looked in the mirror and saw my shiny scalp, I still wished for my hair back. I'd grow it long again, let it's awkward wavy texture fall down my back everyday because I could. There were worse things in the world than not having hair, but I still seemed to fixate on it time and time again. "No sisters or cancer or work," he punctuates each thing with a kiss. "And also not any mothers."

I smile as I welcome his lips on mine once again. I had to admit, being alone was great even if I had grown to love his sister and mom. The ring she'd given me sat on my finger now, still an odd feeling whenever I looked down at it. It was such an extravagant gift, even if she hadn't paid anything for it. Never would my mother have given me something such as that, probably instead pawning the ring for money for her psychic... "Shit!" I curse darting from the bed to go and find my phone. We hadn't installed a house phone yet, I realize now. Maybe we should do something about that, along with our lack of internet. Thank god Mer had the mindset to order our cable for us.

"What?" Alex asks, getting up with me as I begin tossing all of our clothes aside in my search. In doing so I wondered why we'd bothered getting dressed an hour earlier, we were clearly fooling ourselves and had just created a bigger mess. "Are you okay?"

I pause, noting the panicked tone to his voice. I couldn't do that, jump up and freak out on him. It probably didn't help him stay all that calm. "I'm fine," I reassure him quickly. "Well, sort of." I begin my panicked search again.

"What happened?" he asks, helping me move more things throughout the room, even though he didn't know what I was looking for.

"I freakin' forgot to call my mom is what happened!" I exclaim, frustrated with the mess. How did it happen? We were two people, neither of us being Cristina, so I wasn't really sure what happened over the course of a few days. All I knew is that it was making me mildly psychotic right now.

"Forgot to call her?" he asks, still confused as he goes over to our bed side tables to look for my phone there. "About what?"

"On Christmas," I answer, my tone probably implying that I considered him a bit of a moron right now. "I never called my mom on Christmas."

"Oh," he answers with a shrug and stops his search. He grabs my hand and begins tugging me back to bed. I resist, snatching my wrist from his grip. "I don't think this includes eating or bathroom breaks so, you're technically still mine."

I glare at him, obviously he didn't comprehend my sense of urgency in the slightest. How could I have forgotten to call my own mother on Christmas? It wasn't like this was the first since we started talking again. I'd at least spoken with her for the last four years on Christmas but with all of the chaos and the family members...I had managed to forget somehow. I pull open the closet, searching the floor in there for my phone. I don't find that, but I do find a box. One that has my mother's address on it, signifying I'd never managed to send it out.

I groan, giving up as Alex scoops me off the floor and unceremoniously dumps me onto the bed. "Stop worrying about it," he says with a shrug. "She's waited two days, she can't wait another three hours." His lips find mine, defying my attempt at a pout as I lay there, wanting to be exempt from my deal earlier to call my mom and pretty much beg for forgiveness. Knowing her she wouldn't make that huge of a deal about it, but I couldn't help feeling bad over the matter.

"Her gifts to us are sitting under the tree," I add as he tries to distract me back into our oblivion of doing nothing all day. If only it were that simple. "And I blame you for the box being in the closet." I fold my arms over my chest, letting him know I wasn't about to forget anything and join him in his endeavors until I fixed this. Who forgets their own mother on Christmas? It was one of those things you just didn't do.

He stops kissing me, seeing my determination, and gets up, beginning to pull his clothes back from earlier. "What are you doing?" I ask as he runs his finger through his hair and pulls a shirt over his head. I hadn't made him that mad had I? I mean, I know we had a deal and all but getting this angry seemed like a rather large overreaction.

"I'll go mail this and you call your mom. When I get home we open her gifts, and then we go back to what we were doing before you had some stupid thought," he rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss me before picking up the box that needed to be mailed. "And I get an extra hour."

"Deal," I say quickly, throwing on one of his T-shirts and a pair of underwear as I go to begin searching for the phone again. I didn't need to worry about what people could see from our living room window. "And thank you." He mutters an "uh-huh" before leaving, as I start my scavenger hunt for the second time.

Sure enough the stupid thing was sitting in my pants from yesterday. I scroll through my contacts quickly before finding my mom's number, pressing send and taking a deep breath as I walk into the kitchen for something to eat.

"About time you called, Cricket," she answers. I smile, she sounded like my mom, all young and free and open. She wasn't weighted down by regret or anger or cancer. I was lucky she was so relaxed, especially now that I was older. Perhaps not so much the case when I was younger.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," I sigh, picking up a cookie and taking a bite out of it. Surprised that it didn't taste much like mine at all. It was good though, soft and delicious. Sure enough, they were Hannah's. Turns out she'd got the baking gene after all, I guess. "Christmas day was hectic and things have just been kind of busy and..."

"Oh I get it," she answers, I can almost seeing her wave her hand in dismissal. "Life's busy. I've been plenty busy myself, don't worry." I wouldn't mind the comment so much did her tone not suggest something dirty as it did. I knew without a doubt what she'd been "busy" with. It was pretty much the same as how I'd spent my day so far.

"I'm...glad?" I answer, trying not to sound so questioning but not really able to help it. How were kids supposed to respond when they knew their mom was getting some?

"Oh me too," she answers with a little too much vigor. "You know, my psychic mentioned someone would be forgetting something important," she recalls to me, causing an eye roll to come out without thought. If I had a dollar for every time my mother had mentioned something in her life that "matched up" with what her psychic had mentioned before...well, I would have been able to pay for med school without modeling. She swore by her psychics, even if what they told her lacked any actual, valuable information and, in all reality, they got more wrong than they got right. She still loved them, spent all of her money on them. Hell, I was surprised that she wasn't one, at this point.

"Sorry about that," I say again. "Was your Christmas good though?" I'd go for small talk, making sure to deter her from any topics that might be a little too heavy for her. Cancer, Hannah, and Alex's family were all forbidden topics, I'd decided.

"I told you I was busy, didn't I?" is her response. "Did you like what I sent you two?" I freeze, unsure how to tell her we hadn't even bothered to open her gifts Christmas morning we'd been so distracted with everything else. I hadn't even thought to check under the tree for anything else after everyone had declared they were done handing things out. The only other people I would be getting gifts from still were George and Meredith, both of whom I'd be exchanging with in person.

"Um, yeah," I answer vaguely. In all honesty I was a little concerned as to what she'd sent us. With my mother it could be anything from tarot cards to sex toys. Two things I would not be pleased to receive. At the same time though, she had a tendency to surprise me, which left me unable to be certain she hadn't sent me something nice. "Thank you."

"Oh of course, Cricket." I smile at the term of endearment. I never did know how the nickname came to be, but for as long as I could remember that was what my mother called me. I was Izzie at school, and Cricket at home. Thank god she hadn't put it on my birth certificate at least. "You back to work yet baby?"

"Oh yeah, totally," I lie. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and if she did know how sick I actually was, even if I was technically improving, she'd probably be coming to visit. Which, in turn, would hurt me far more than her. No more company, not of any kind. "It's going great."

"Oh good, good," she says absentmindedly. She didn't think much of my condition, our phone conversations having been enough to convince her I was doing great, practically healed, I'd say all the time. I couldn't tell her the truth, as awful as that was. Were I not actually improving maybe I'd be a little more honest, let herself prepare, but so far so good, meaning I had no intention or informing her of my less than ideal health right now. "I knew that cancer scare would be nothing for you."

I sigh to myself, wishing that were actually the case right now. What would she say if she saw me? How would she react to this sickly state I was in, looking all ill and pathetic? "Oh yeah," I agree, trying to make my voice light as a hand runs over my head, an obvious reminder of my lie. "Totally did."

"That's my Cricket," she says with pride. "You always surprise me with how good you do everything," she sighs and I refrain from pointing out the fact that I'd had a baby at sixteen, not ideal to most parents. "You didn't just graduate high school, but then college too, and you work all the time on your job." It was how a lot of people lived life, working hard and earning things. They aimed to have a place to live and a job to go to everyday, be able to support the people in their life. It wasn't her tactic, but it was how a lot of people lived their life. I was hardly anything extraordinary for finishing college, and I still didn't think she'd registered that I had gone to med school. "I tell everyone in the trailer park what a good doctor you are."

I smile, happy to hear the motherly pride in my mom's voice. She was happy I'd turned out more than her, so was I, as terrible as that was. "And you even have Alex. You're already more successful in relationships than your mom."

I didn't just have Alex in the way she thought I did. We were married, bound forever, technically. I hadn't been able to bring myself to tell her, just like I never mentioned anything else. The more I talked to her the guiltier I was beginning to feel. "Alex is pretty great," I agree instead. "But I'm sure your relationships are going well too." That is what finally distracts her so she stops talking about me and goes on to herself, telling me all about this new man who moved into the trailer park. He apparently had a pet snake, which she didn't care for so much, but she overlooked it.

I silently thank God when Alex walks through the door, giving me an excuse to get off the phone with my rambling, juvenile mother...who I love. "Mom, I have to go. Alex is here," I say, probably cutting her off mid-sentence.

"Oh, okay, well I love you, Cricket." I smile, pointing to my cheek in order to signify Alex to kiss it, which he does, and then goes over to tree and searches underneath of it for the gifts my mother had sent. He pulls them out from where they sat, all the way in the back.

"Love you too. Bye." I hang up before she can say anything else, laying my head back on the couch and letting out a long breath. "That was a lot of talking," I groan. Alex sits next to me and I let my body lean against his. I wasn't legitimately tired, but I felt awfully worn out after that.

"She wasn't even mad though, was she?" he asks, though he sounds well like he already knows the answer.

"Stop gloating and give me my gift," I demand, taking the small, rectangular box from him and removing the paper. A smile spreads across my face when I see it. It wasn't a sex toy or tarot cards, but this year's Barbie ornament. I had outgrown them by now, obviously, but the fact that my mother still went and bought it made me feel nostalgic of all of our Christmases before in the trailer park.

"Great," Alex comments, plenty sarcastic. "Just what we needed." In all fairness, there had been a lot Barbie ornaments to be hung on the tree, some of which didn't even make it on for the sake of preventing it from looking tacky. Still, it was a tradition and I was glad that she thought to carry it on.

"You're turn," I say with a smile, leaning in anxiously to see what he got, as well as just an excuse to hang off of him. He pulls the paper off, and I laugh aloud at his _own_ Barbie ornament. "She just christened you into the family," I say as I laugh harder still.

"Shut up," he complains, but I can see the smile he's fighting on his own face. "Now come on, you're still mine." And it's with that comment that leaves our gifts forgotten on the on the couch as he carries me off to bed again.

4:59 PM

"Tomorrow you and I have a lot of cleaning to do, mister," I lecture with a finger pointed in his face. My resolve to get up and do something at four had faded, leaving me lying here with Alex as we continued on in just simple conversation. We'd laid off on the sex around three thirty, and had done nothing but talked since. We spent enough time together that you'd think we wouldn't have that much to talk about, but somehow we had managed to lay around for an hour and a half, chatting.

"Uh-huh, what do you want to order for dinner?" he asks, arms still wrapped around me as I lay against him. Our positions hadn't changed much over the time since we began our talk. Either I was snuggled on top of his body, or pressed up against it. Our queen size bed was practically a waste with the two of us. The only time I'd ever seen it used up entirely was when Alex was in bed without me, and then covered the entirety of it with his limbs.

"Chinese," I respond with a sigh, annoyed with my own surrender to nothingness. I should be bored, I think to myself. Normally I got bored laying around when I was half dead with chemo, I hardly saw why now I was suddenly content to do nothing. Was it the fact that I was in my own place? Or that I had company not half asleep, maybe. "And make sure you get the spicy stuff that I can't usually eat." I had five more days to stuff my face with all of the foods normally forbidden when being on and just getting off of chemo. My stomach could hardly handle them now, but during those days, I could just forget it. "And we should go out for ice cream too." I smile to try and sell my idea.

"It's twenty degrees outside, and you want to go eat ice cream?" he asks incredulously, shaking his head at my suggestion. "Like it wasn't hard enough getting to the post office a mile down the rode in this weather."

"Oh fine," I answer, just to get him to stop complaining. "We'll get ice cream some day when you find it more acceptable then." I mock his own ridiculousness, earning me a glare and eventually a kiss. "Now order me some food, would you?" Hopefully we wouldn't have to get dressed in order to answer the door.

9:12 PM

"Don't be stupid, Alex," I say as I roll my eyes in response. We were on the couch in the living room, somehow having finally made it out of bed and onto the couch, and a movie played on the TV, some random one we'd found on a channel neither of us had ever heard of before.

We weren't paying much attention though. Instead, Alex had a notebook on his lap and a pencil in his hand as he draws an extremely basic outline of our house. We'd some how fallen on to that topic of conversation and, after my initial desires for a large kitchen, we started discussing and debating what else we would want. It was fun, sitting here with my husband as we draw out a dream house. It might be a little strange, but it was fun.

"We do not need a full bath there. A half is perfectly fine." He erases his original markings, really just smudging the pencil around and then trying to draw over top of it.

"Well fine, but I want the island facing in this direction instead," he insists for the third time, drawing arrows to represent the rotation. "And we definitely need two different sinks in our bathroom." It was true, to his credit. My makeup did take up a fair amount of space.

"And I want a decent sized closet for my room too," I say, snatching the pencil from his hand and drawing my own closet. "I have stuff and I want room for it. That way our next house won't look like this," I wave a hand over the apartment, which managed to be cluttered wherever we went somehow. I was really hoping it'd just been his family, and now that they were gone it would be easier to keep clean.

"Fair enough, but I want a pool." I hold the pencil out of his reach before he can grab it. He gives me a warning look, letting me know he will resort to certain actions if necessary. For the sake of avoiding a tickle attack I hold it out to him, speaking as I do.

"I don't want any large bodies of water around our house until the kids are older," I point out, my words stopping him before he draws anything. "Even with fences kids die in drownings all the time." I shudder at the thought of how many blue kids showed up in our ER with sobbing parents accompanying them. More than once was too many times to see that in a lifetime. "So no pools right now." Well, technically right now there was no anything, including kids.

"Fire pit?" he asks and I nod in agreement. "And definitely a fire place in the living room he adds, writing a near illegible "F.P." on the wall of the living room.

"It'll be perfect for hanging stockings," I say with a smile. That'd always been another big thing of mine, a fire place to hang the stockings above like in all the stories. I'd always wanted one as a little girl. "I don't want any electric one though. Even if they're easier, they aren't the same." I'd rather put the effort into loading and starting a wood fire in order to be rewarded with the crackle and smell of it than go the easy way and press a button, losing all sense of ambiance.

The movie credits begin to roll, and I doubted if either of us could even think of the main character's names. Somehow I find myself yawning as I curl my body tighter against Alex's. "I can't draw with you like that," he says as I drape an arm across him.

"You can't draw in the first place," I laugh lightly, unable to resist. If we turned those plans over to a contractor he'd probably laugh in our faces.

"That's it, I'm taking out your closet," he threatens, beginning to erase it with his cheap pencil. It had little effect.

"No, stop," I still say, reaching over weakly to try and grab the pencil from him, feeling too lazy to actually work toward it though. "I'm _so _sorry," I say sarcastically, laughing all the more. I make another grab for the pencil, distracting him enough so I grab the notebook off of his lap. "Haha," I say in triumph.

He rolls his eyes and kisses me, all attempts of closet erasing now forgotten. "Time for bed," he says and I laugh. The place was dirtier than when we got up, neither of us had showered today, and my biggest accomplishment had been making a phone call, yet we were going to bed for the night, according to Alex.

"How do you expect me to be tired, exactly?" I ask with a quirked eyebrow. I didn't anticipate being able to fall asleep anytime soon.

"I never said anything about sleeping, now did I?" I smile up at him as I get off the couch eagerly, our lips finding one another's as we somehow fall into each other's embraces once again. I'm between giggling and moaning as we make our way to the bedroom, stopping from time to time in the hallway as he presses me up against a wall and the few articles of clothing we had on begin to litter the floor. I rotate him one last time before we make it through the doorway to our bedroom, holding him against the wall as I kiss him with a passion that should have long since faded.

He picks me up for the rest of the distance, my bare legs straddling tightly around his waist as he carries me in and lays me out on the bed. Good god I wished days like these never had to end.

11:48 PM

I laugh as he lightly kisses behind my ear, barely touching it which, turns out, makes me ticklish there. "Stop already, would you?"

"I didn't intend to," he mutters and I roll my eyes.

"You know," I say, forcing him to lie straight on his back as I prop my elbows up on his chest and stare down at him. "Even if we do only have the chance to have sex one day a month, I think we pretty much have ourselves covered."

Alex looks thoughtful at this for a second, like he's contemplating the answer. "Nope," he says after a while, pressing a kiss to my lips and drawing a smile from me. "Definitely not." I shake my head at him and lay my head on his chest, tired after our day in bed. After all, it'd been pretty active. "You're tired," he says, wrapping his arms strongly around my body.

"Mhm," I murmur as my eyes slip shut. "You kept me busier than if I had cleaned today," I smile, far more enjoying this exercise than any other. In fact, I was almost considering postponing another day for cleaning, since Alex would be back to work then, to enjoy our final day together more like we'd spent this one.

"That was the goal," he whispers. I feel another kiss on the top of my head. "Now shut up and go to sleep," he instructs, and my body begins to comply easily.

"Love you," I mutter out first. It might have been day of technically zero productivity, but I'd spent a day with my husband, just getting to..._be _with my husband with nothing else getting in the way. I needed it and so had he. Maybe it'd give us strength for all the other crap we'd be going through in a couple of days. I know I'd enjoy drawing diagrams of house plans instead of Christmas decorations when I got the chance.

I'm not sure if I'm dreaming or not as I hear a quiet, "Love you too," in response, coming from somewhere in the darkness and finding me.

**And I know, I'm uber late again. Sorry about that. Thanks to everyone for the lovely suggestions on what to do over the next few days! I have it mostly figured out, I think, but if you have anything you think of just let me know. Also, this is the closest to M you guys are getting, and I really don't know how well I write it, so go easy on me here. Regular chapter next update, one including some form of plot, other than a bed, that is. Plus, I should warn you all now that I might not be updating tomorrow because of work. If I go in early I won't have anytime to write, so it all depends on that. If I'm late I'll hopefully be able to post days 28 and 29 when I get back on Friday.**

**IloveLexzie has also made a bit of request too, which was for an Amber focused spin-off. Now, I don't think I could do that so much, but I would like to know other's thoughts on just a couple of chapters perhaps rewritten in Amber's POV. It wouldn't be until I've finished with these days and the epilogue, probably a couple of weeks after even, but if anyone else is interested I wouldn't mind delving into Amber's character a bit more. There's a lot that I'd created for her character that never made it into the story which I might like to bring out if anyone was interested.**

**Thanks again for all of your support. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	28. Chapter 28

Alex – December 28th 6:12 AM

It didn't make much sense, being awake at the time I'd usually go to work when I didn't actually have anywhere to be. I should be making the most of my last day off, but so far I wasn't doing that very well. Izzie was still out cold, all curled up against me with her body heat warming me. I was hopeful that she would be able to sleep in, really rest up before going and conquering chemo again in a couple of days. I wasn't ready for it, I never was. The consistent appointments might be what was healing her, but they also almost killed me every time I had to go sit in the ICU as she lay with her heart monitor reporting concerning results. It was a stab to the heart every time I watched her get sicker and sicker, with nothing I could do to help her except rub her back while she pukes or hold her hand while they stick needles in her arm.

I eject all such thoughts from my mind, not wanting to think about this radiant Izzie, who was full of life and energy, to soon be replaced with a mere shadow of her former self as she's pumped full of poison. I was hopeful that the new treatment plan would wreak less havoc on her body, but we wouldn't know until we tried.

The sun peeking through the curtains and my circling thoughts quickly make me realize I won't be sleeping again this morning. I'm content to lay here with Izzie until she wakes up, but it will hopefully be hours until that happened, and I remembered her rambling yesterday about wanting to get a bunch of stuff done. She kept muttering about cleaning before she had to back for treatment, and although I was more than pleased with the results that my day in bed had brought, I still felt a little guilty for the stress it'd probably leave her with now.

It's with that thought that I convince myself to get up, extracting myself from her warm, consistent grip, and trying to resist all urges to get back into bed as the cold morning air stings me. Rubbing my hands over my face I wander into the bathroom, brushing my teeth and combing my hair before taking inventory of the room. Izzie kept complaining over how it needed to be cleaned, which meant I'd try and do it now.

The bathroom closet is empty of any cleaning stuff, like Comet or Shout or whatever people used for it, and the space under the kitchen sink is void as well, meaning I'd be sent out on another shopping trip if we intended to get anything done.

If you asked me the place still looked plenty clean, ignoring our fair amounts of clutter. Laundry ends up being finished first, several loads needing to be done it turns out. Hadn't I just done this like a week ago? Where'd we get all of these clothes? I pull out the pockets to my pants before stuffing them in the washer. I had a tendency to leave things in there like change, phones, credit cards. I pull out a wrinkled up piece of paper, unrolling it to see it was our receipt from the dinner out we'd had with my family. That was the beginning of Amber's turn around, even if the night had ended in disaster. The time before had been pleasant. I stop and wonder when the last time Izzie and I had gone out, just me and her for something other than Christmas decorations or sheets.

With the realization that I literally could not remember, I pick up my cell and then go search in the kitchen for the phone book. I wanted to take her some place nice and have a little post-Christmas, pre-go-back-to-work, dinner together. We'd done other couple-y things yesterday, now I needed to treat her like my wife and take her to dinner. Husbands did that, right? I thought I'd heard Meredith and Yang discussing it once. It sounded like total crap to me, but there was something about taking your wife out every month. I don't know, I'd only been half listening. I could even let it be a bit of a surprise, though with the amount of time it took her to get ready these days that might not work.

But still, we'd have one final nice night out before I had to go back to work tomorrow and her back to chemo in a few days. Just her and I, good food, and maybe some hot sex when we got home too. She'd hardly be denying me anything from the appreciation she drew once I'd finished cleaning. I wasn't taking Christmas decorations down though, I'd already decided I wasn't about to do that to myself. With the amount Izzie had managed to put up I'd be here until next year taking them all down without assistance from someone. Maybe that'd been her plan all along, force it to look like freakin' Santa's Village in here for the rest of the year.

I wander into the kitchen to put the dishes away, trying to be quiet as I placed the silverware in the proper slot and slid the plates into place. It's going fine until I drop a cup on the floor, a loud crash signaling the shattering of glass as it slides across the linoleum floor.

"Shit," I curse quietly, crossing my fingers that the noise hadn't been enough to wake Izzie up as I go to find the broom and sweep up the mess. I jam my feet into shoes before walking anywhere near the kitchen again. We hardly needed to go to the hospital again because I cut my foot open. Izzie's finger injury had been enough for this week, I'd thought.

"Burning the apartment down, are you?" I hear her ask from behind me. I turn and smile at her tired looking form, eyes still half shut as she stretched her arms back.

"Hey, sorry," I say. It had been my intention to try and let her sleep as much as I could, not wake her up early in the morning. "Go back to bed."

"I don't wanna," she answers with her eyebrows pulled together. I hold her back before she can walk into the kitchen and slice her feet up. "What'd you break?"

"Just a cup," I shrug, surrendering my broom as she pulls on my hand to turn me around and kiss me. "Should I be breaking things more often?" I ask as she carries on, arms snaking around my neck.

"Shut up," she answers quietly, pulling away after a few more seconds. "We have to clean," she says dejectedly, like the realization had just fallen on her or I was making her do it. Trust me, there were many other things I would prefer doing.

11:13 AM

I sigh as I pick up some of the assorted items strewed along our dresser. I pick one thing up and either don't know what to do with it so I put it back down or stuff in a drawer. Not much progress had been made in relation to actual cleaning.

Izzie was pulling on a pair of sweat pants and one of my T-shirts, claiming they were old enough it wouldn't matter if she stained it while cleaning. I hold up an old necklace of her's that I hadn't seen her wear once in question as to what I should do with it. She takes it from me without a word. I was beginning to wonder if she was one of those people who just kept things for the hell of keeping them.

The clutter that collected over the past two weeks was unnecessary for the most part, caused mostly be our hectic lifestyles and general laziness. I had to wonder if maybe some more blame could potentially fall on Izzie for this though. I pick up her old wedding ring, staring at it for a second before making a move to put it away.

"No!" she objects, snatching the ugly piece of jewelery from my hand before I can do anything with it. She probably thought I'd throw it away. It made me sick to look at it, knowing that _that_ was what I'd given her as my physical proof of our marriage, but still, she had some weird attachment to it so I couldn't just chuck it in the trash like I might want. "I'm keeping it."

"Calm down," I answer, more than willing to surrender it to her before she had a coronary infarction over the thing. Fifty cents, that's what it was worth. Yet she treated it like it had as much value as the one on her finger now. I didn't get it, never able to understand her sentimental mind very well. "I was just going to stick it in a drawer or something is all."

She rolls her eyes as she replaces it on her finger, right over top of the elegant one from my grandmother. The contrast was painfully obvious. "If you put it in a drawer it'll never come out again."

"Don't exaggerate," I instruct. A glance at my drawer tells me she might be right though. Where did we get all of this shit, I wonder, and could we sell it or something? Surely there had to be some hoarder in the world who would take some of this useless crap for a couple hundred bucks. "And what are you going to do? Put it on display?" She shrugs, like she's not really sure yet. "Oh no," I cut in before she can make any concrete plans and orders the framing or something. "We are not Meredith and Shepherd," I remind her. We weren't hanging the vending machine ring over our bed to remind us of the importance of our marriage.

"Alex, no matter how beautiful and special this ring on my hand is," she says putting her palms on either side of my face and kissing me quickly before continuing on. "This fifty cent ring right here, this is my wedding ring."

I shake my head at her irrational thinking, over how attached she could get to something so stupid, but that was definitely apart of what made Izzie...Izzie, and I wouldn't take anything different. "Whatever, just stop bragging about it, would you?" I ask, remembering all of the people she would proudly show it off to. It never made sense to me, how she could be attracted to something so simple and worthless. It held no real worth or beauty and would easily be overlooked by anyone else, but she grew to love it, despite all of those faults.

"If only there wasn't so much to brag about." She replies with a shrug, leaning in and kissing me again. I guess I was pretty damn lucky she could look past all of the initial flaws and find the good stuff underneath.

12:43 PM

"I'll scrub the tub, you fold the laundry!" Izzie shouts from where she stood cleaning in the bathroom to me, preparing a sandwich in the kitchen. We'd been bartering back and forth over who had to finish the laundry for the last five minutes. So far neither of us were intending to give in.

"No way, the bathtub has like, two hairs in it," I argue back. That was hardly a fair trade. Besides, I'd already done the washing and drying of the laundry, it was her turn.

"Well either you do it or we're going to have to go out and buy new clothes," she yells back as I hear the sponge go back and forth along the bottom of the tub.

"Whatever," I answer, stopping the argument for the time being and focusing on placing the finishing touches on my sandwich. I wanted to get Izzie to eat soon as well, hoping that I'd be able to keep her from eating before dinner if she didn't wait to have lunch until four in the afternoon. I've just taken a hunk out of my sandwich when my phone starts to ring. I'd groan but, there was too much food in my mouth for that. "Yeah?" I ask through a bite of my sandwich. I probably sounded annoyed, but I swear to god if they were calling me in on my last day off...

"Alex, it's me." I try not to groan as I hear O'Malley's voice on the other end. What did he want now? He'd talked to Izzie like thirty minutes ago. I could hear her laughing from the living room all the way in the bathroom, with the door closed at that.

"Izzie's busy," I answer gruffly. I just wanted to get this guy off my case and away from my wife for a freaking hour. Why oh why did she have to be best friends with _him _of all people. I asked myself this question a lot, along with why I endlessly hated the guy's guts. It'd be easier to fix it if maybe I just knew why. All I knew was that I despised him though, and only ever put up with him for Izzie or to land a good case.

"I didn't want to talk to Izzie...actually," he answers, sounding like his usual, stuttering self. How she ever once found this bumbling, awkward guy to be attractive I'd never know. The fact that she had kind of bothered me though. No matter how drunk she'd been at the time, she'd still chosen him over me. I'd been waiting there all that time, just trying to start something with her. She'd turned me down for _him, _and every awkward conversation I'd been forced to have with him since then just reminded me of that.

"Well what do you want then? I don't have all day." I sound like a jerk, I always did when it involved him, and I should probably work on that or whatever, but I didn't really have any desire to. Even when Izzie gave me that upset, hopeless look that she thought I didn't notice. I always did because I was waiting for it.

"Er, there's someone here to see her," he answers, further annoying me with his mundane answer.

"Ever think to include a name with that, O'Malley?" I ask, rolling my eyes in frustration. It was suddenly very clear to me why I'd punched him.

"It's her mom, Alex," he finishes, making me stop hating him long enough to think of something else. Her mom? She'd talked to her yesterday and hadn't said a word about her visiting, and although we probably wouldn't really wait five years to ever have company again, I was pretty positive neither of us had been planning for anyone to come this soon after we'd gotten rid of our last visitors.

"What's she want?" I ask, sounding rude again. Last I knew Izzie had no desire to see her mom, she never even wanted her mom to know she was sick. After all we'd dealt with in the past few weeks what was there now?

"Er, to see her," he answers dully, making me roll my eyes in frustration. I was grateful I was never elected to work trauma if it meant I didn't have to work with O'Malley. Deep breaths, I remind myself. For the sake of Izzie, deep breaths.

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" I plop my sandwich back down onto the plate, appetite gone now that O'Malley had killed it with his insistent muttering and useless chatter. I hated him, so badly I hated him.

"I just thought..." he starts awkwardly. "Since you know Izzie and are...married to her, you might...know what to do?"

I sigh as an answer, wanting to throw the phone down and be done with it. I didn't want Izzie's mother to come visit. I'd made plans. I'd called some stupid fancy restaurant and reserved a table and made sure I had a tie to wear with my suit, all to take my wife out to dinner before I had to go back to work and we lost any sense of free time. I had all of these intentions that made me a little less of a crappy husband and now this woman, who no one had even invited, decided to show up and George was calling me, and the whole thing was really pissing me off.

"Great, thanks for the heads up," is all I say before hanging up on the bastard and muttering a few curse words to myself for the hell of it. Just like that I was angry and annoyed, and I didn't want to end up taking it out on Izzie just because she's here again. I hated it when I did that to her. Unfortunately is was pretty often.

It's then that she chooses to walk into the kitchen, washrag in hand and a smile on her face as she kisses me before going to the sink. "You know, this whole cleaning thing isn't so bad when there's two people," she says cheerfully. "Taking down Christmas decorations is still pretty depressing though." She sighs, drying her hands on a towel and walking over to me, a glint in her eye as she assaults my lips with her's. "I could always finish tomorrow though. I'll have time while you're at work..."

She's bargaining, I know that much, and I'm well aware as to what she's after too. I'm all moody and mad now however, so I don't really respond as she'd been expecting, causing her to pull away in a pout. "Alright, what's wrong?" she asks, staring at me in the sort of way that reminded me how well she understood what I was thinking.

"Nothing," I answer, though it was apparent I was feeling otherwise. I was irritated, which didn't make much sense considering it had been Izzie's mom who showed up unexpectedly, not mine. If anything she should be upset, once she knows that is.

"Is that about George?" she asks, referring to her conversation with him earlier. There was something about knowing that _he _was the one making her laugh like that or that _he _was the one she was asking to talk to, that set my teeth on edge every time. I really did try to stop, especially now that my excuse to hate him was not as developed since him and Iz had made up.

"No," I grumble out as an answer, clearly making it seem more like that was what bothered me than anything else. I couldn't lie though, it did bother me, but not like this. "It's not," I say, more calmly this time.

She continues to stare, obviously not buying my claim. "You don't have to finish the laundry, if that's what you're cranky about." I smile in appreciation for her offer. If only I could accept it and move on. What I do decide is to stop my attitude toward her, knowing it won't solve anything and only make her upset, probably throwing the two of us into a fight that I just wasn't in the mood for.

"I was going to take you out to dinner tonight," I tell her, watching as a smile grows on her at the idea.

"Ooh," she answers, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me, her body pressing mine into the counter. If I didn't tell her soon she'd be dragging me off to bed for some pre-dinner sex. "Where to?"

"Well no where now," I tell her, going to sit at the kitchen table. She follows and sits down next to me, shooting a curious glance in my direction. "O'Malley called me," I start, watching as her face shifts from confusion to concern. What did she think I'd done now? Threatened his life? "He said someone was at the hospital waiting for you."

She quirks an eyebrow in question and laughs lightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she answers, rolling her eyes. "Details would be appreciated."

"Your mom, Iz. Your mom showed up and I guess wants to see you." I shrug my shoulders, done worrying about it. Worst comes to worst we buy her a hotel room for the night and tomorrow her and Izzie can spend some time together while I'm at work all day. I'd actually feel a bit better knowing I wasn't leaving my unhealthy wife home alone. At least it was better than when we lived at the trailer. I could even come here on my lunch break without going over. Well, in theory at least.

"Um, why?" she questions like I'd know. "I just talked to her."

"Maybe that's why she wants to see you," I propose. It wasn't like I hadn't ever talked to Izzie on the phone and then missed her more when we were done. "I don't know, but she's at the hospital so we should probably get a move on." We were both still undressed, me pretty much in my underwear and Izzie in day old sweats. At least we had a couple baskets of laundry to hunt through in order to find something to wear.

"But, I didn't invite her to come," Izzie says as she twists her hands nervously. I didn't exactly want her here either, but we'd go to dinner, talk and then she'd have to leave around seven to make it back to her house at a near decent hour tonight. How bad could it really be?

"Well let's just go and deal with it, okay?" I suggest, kissing her quickly before walking off the bathroom in order to try and make myself a little more presentable. After all, now that she was my mother-in-law I should be a little less Alex and a little more...I don't Derek, or someone? I had to be someone a parent could at least like a little, not that Robbi seemed all that opposed to me originally. Either way, today was going to be pretty damn interesting.

1:38 PM

We walk into the hospital through the ambo doors for some reason, Izzie leading me off to the resident room with no explanation. "What the hell, Iz?" I ask as she grabs my arm and drags me through the halls. "I don't think your mom's going to be over here."

"Alex, just shut up," she instructs, clearly stressed for reasons I didn't quite get. Family sucks, I got that. I just had to live with that for a week, in fact, but that if I could make it through it for that long she could handle an afternoon. Oh well, I'd play supportive husband until she calmed down if that was what would make her feel better, I guess.

She throws open the door to the resident's changing room and walks through. I follow, utterly confused. "What are you doing?" I ask, deciding to screw the whole supportive husband thing. Clearly my wife was losing her mind, which was nothing to be supportive over exactly.

"I'm changing my clothes," she says, opening the cabinet beneath her locker and finding it empty. "Where's my scrubs?" she asks, sounding openly offended over the fact that someone had taken and washed her used scrubs at some point in the past six months. How dare they.

"Probably chilling out with your re-appliance form upstairs," I suggest. "You know, since you aren't currently working since you kind of have cancer." Had she forgotten? Were we dealing with some weird, stressed caused amnesia here? Because personally, I was a bit thrown off.

"She doesn't know, okay?" she finally says, crossing her arms over her chest and hanging her head. "I told her I was better, back to work and stuff. So...that's why I want to put on a pair of scrubs."

"Iz," I say simply, taking her hand before she can walk away from me. "You can't lie to her, you know that." I breathe out, shaking my head. "I get why you do, trust me I do, but you can't. Because what if...you just can't, alright?" I had a good point, and she knew what it was, but I couldn't bring myself to say it, the thought to painful to bear.

"Alex," she whispers, looking up at me with scared eyes. I never entertained the thought of her dying to her, ever. I liked to pretend aloud that there was no doubt in my mind as to how this would end, with her healthy and alive. "She's not going to handle it well."

Shrugging I try and gesture her in the right direction, stopping any detours she might try and take. "No one handles stage four melanoma metastatic cancer well, Izzie," I remind her. I'd never forget my own reaction, the paralyzing fear that gripped my heart, the twisting in my stomach as I felt I'd puke right on the patient before Cristina managed to cut him open. My entire world crashed that day from the words Yang said, words that didn't seem real, but we had somehow adjusted, and now we were looking at a positive outcome. So once you got past the initial, painful shock...things get easier. "Besides, she already knows about the cancer."

"Well yeah," she answers like there's far more to add to that. "But from the way I'm talking she's picturing me with long blonde hair and working eighty hour weeks."

There's not much of a response in my brain for her, personally a little confused as to why she would so blatantly lie to her mom. "I'll be better soon." The doctors are saying good things." "Don't worry." What happened to saying things like that? Why did it have to be so...extensive?

The waiting room comes into view as we round a corner, her mother was sitting in a chair next to a pale looking woman with a puke bucket on her lap. She looked bored and a little bit disgusted, but overall the same old Robbi I'd met the first time around.

"Cricket," the excited looking woman says happily as we begin to approach her. I watch as her face falls with each step she takes, stopping a foot away from us as she stares at Izzie with a look of confusion and sadness. "Isobel?" she asks, more to herself than to Iz, I think. "Wh-where's your hair?" Robbi reaches up to pull the scarf back, checking for the growth of any new hair on Izzie's head. Her hand jumps up quickly though, stopping her mom from revealing her bald scalp.

"Mom," she says quietly, a hand reaching out in comfort. Her mother still stared at her, confused and a little bit disoriented it seemed. I'm sure it's not easy, hearing one thing about your kid and then finding out the complete opposite. No parent wants their child to have cancer, so believing their healed is easy, you want to do it. Not to mention Izzie's mom had left Seattle last time under the pretense of believing it was just skin cancer, remove a mole and call it a day sort of deal. But months later she was still sick, looking worse than before and not the least bit on the road to recovery. That is, if you didn't see her on treatment days. Compared to treatment days she was the picture of health.

"Why did that boy say you don't work here right now?" Izzie sighs, looking down in shame as her mother's eyes fill with tears. "Does he even know what he's talking about?"

"Mom," Izzie says quietly again. "We need to talk," she whispers and I watch as her red haired, headband adorning, eccentric mother falls against Izzie in tears, frankly acting a bit over-dramatic, I thought. Izzie looks to me helplessly and I can't offer her anything more than a shrug in response, having no better idea of what to do than she did. This wasn't my territory, not for this mom at least.

"You're dying, aren't you?" she demands breathlessly as her daughter gently rubs her back, trying her best to shush her frantic sobs. "Oh god, you're dying." There are stares all around us, people forgetting about their stomach aches and flu symptoms as they pity the sobbing mother and her dying daughter. Suddenly life just seemed a little brighter for them, a sniffle here or a cough there no longer the end of the world. Maybe they thought of calling their parents or their kids, telling them they loved them. Because watching this unfold, well it was pretty tragic from the looks of things.

And I froze, stuck in this awful moment of watching someone's world crashing apart, remembering how impossibly painful it had been when those very thoughts and feelings rushed through me not so long ago. It wasn't something you forgot, the pain of the idea of losing the one you love the most, even if it never came to be. It killed you inside for a moment, taking everything in you and smashing it to bits to leave you with nothing but an empty ache. I watched that very moment happen to someone else now, and all of those uncertain moments of mine from not too long ago came rushing back, reaffirmed by the uncertain thoughts now coursing through my mind of fast growing mets, failing treatment, and a dead Henry. I wanted to vomit.

"Come on," I hear from, who else but O'Malley, behind us. He was the trauma guy, the one who handled the heart crippling, mind stopping moments. I was the guy who stood holding the light, just trying to breathe through it until things were better and someone else had put them back together. That didn't change between us, and I resented him for being so much better than me in that regard. "People are staring," is his next whisper as he puts an arm around Iz's shoulders, where her mother was still tightly wrapped around, and beginning to lead them off to an empty patient room. I follow, silently and uselessly as George, stupid, bumbling George of all people, takes control of the situation.

The door opens and I hold it as Izzie, with a mom still wrapped around her mom's shoulders, walks in, a tired look displayed on her face as she sits on the edge of the bed, her mom still crying like the world has ended. Because when you get news like that, it has, your world at least.

I want to yell for the woman to stop, pull herself together and get over herself because she's the mother and Izzie is her child, but I don't. I want to walk away and forget the mess in this room right now, find my way back to mine and Izzie's happy bubble or off to a time when cancer is nothing but a memory, but I can't. I want to not care or be effected or feel like joining in on the tears because going through this day after day is exhausting even when positive diagnoses are handed out, but I won't.

Instead I grit my teeth and bear it, not letting the crying and the sudden hopelessness get to me as I stare down at my hands. "Mom," I hear her say for the third or fourth time, trying to capture the desperate woman's attention and reassure her of the horrible truth she was unnecessarily facing. She wasn't dying, not this time around. "Mom, it's not that bad."

George is still here, standing off to the side with his hands folded all awkward in front of him, like there was something he could still do. I should tell him to fuck off, I married into this messed up family of Izzie and her mom, not him. He had no place here, not really. But then I think of how Izzie wouldn't like that very much, and she was already just trying to help support her mom so I shouldn't be acting like an ass just now.

"I'm not dying," she tries to reaffirm, her mother sniffling loudly. I halfheartedly glance around the room for some tissues. There were some but they were across the room and I felt like the movement would be disruptive.

"This was the thing," her mother cries, a sob catching in her throat. "The thing my psychic warned me about." I see Izzie roll her eyes at that, never having been very pleased with her mother's belief in her psychic, or the money she was willing to put into such things. She doesn't verbalize anything though, just rubs her hand up and down her mom's arm.

"I'm going to be okay still," she tells her, sighing. "It's just...taking a little longer than they thought is all." It was taking longer than we thought because she was still alive, otherwise the timeline would probably have been more accurate, though far more tragic.

"You told me you were better, Cricket." The endless, bubbling sobs have stopped now, slowing as she comprehends again the fact that her daughter was not indeed dying, just a liar. "You told me...not to worry and that you were getting all better." She takes a hand and runs it down Izzie's sallow cheek, a loving touch as she takes in her daughter's condition.

"I know," she whispers, not saying anything more than that. No explanation is being offered, no apology uttered. Either she felt no remorse or she thought such things would have no difference.

"Why would you lie to me?" She sounds like an injured kitten, like someone just kicked her and she was left on the side of the road to die. It was pathetic, kinda like my own mother after Dad would lay out on her. Parents weren't supposed to be that weak though. "I just talked to you..."

I sigh, annoyed with the mess that shouldn't have existed in the first place. I believed in telling the truth, even if it sucked. Because if you only told the truth when it was good...well, you'd end up lying a hell of a lot. Life sucks, so you have to deal and make it work. Trying to lie it all away didn't work for anyone, not most of the time at least. Just say what you really mean and get it over with.

"What Izzie's trying to say is that she tried to protect you and it didn't work, but she's gonna get better soon," I answer for her, trying to wrap this up before I get hit with another sucker punch of realization over the close proximity my wife shared with death right now.

"Are you?" her mom asks desperately, taking her hand and holding it in two of her's. It was almost more like a life support for Robbi than comfort for Izzie. "Are you really going to get better?"

"Yes," she answers with no doubt in her voice. Maybe it was from how often her and I said it, forcing ourselves to believe the words, and maybe it was from a positive diagnosis. Either way, she said it and made me believe it all over again as her mother found truth in it for the first time. She would live, we would survive, things would be okay.

3:12 PM

"You know, Cricket," Robbi says that afternoon as we sat at a table in the cafeteria of the hospital. Somehow we'd ended up here, despite the fact that Izzie and I ate this food for three meals a day more than half of the month. We'd weakly tried to persuade her to Joe's, but she suggested here and neither of us had any energy to argue. I didn't know about Izzie, but personally I would be more than happy to do laundry right now. Not because her mom was unpleasant or that the sob-fest was carrying on, in fact it was the total opposite. She'd somehow transitioned back into her usual, immature self as she chatted away whilst we ate. I just wanted to be back home, with my wife, for one last day before work started again. It wasn't a lot to ask, I didn't think. All of our other time was so interrupted and never spent between the two of us alone and happy. I wanted more than five untainted minutes with her a month, which didn't sound like so much to ask. "I thought I'd found a real seer with Madam Rosietta, but I really think that Lucy is for real."

Izzie sighed and smiled, nodding her head to pretend to listen to her mother's ten minute analysis on the women she went to to predict her future. I wondered if Madam Rosietta given her a not so good reading, causing her to go somewhere that she'd be more likely to hear she would become rich and famous. How did people believe that crap?

Either way the conversation now was better than before when we'd heard of sexual exploits that had occurred with the mailman. It was...disturbing how open she discussed with Izzie. No wonder she ended up pregnant at sixteen. I'd have to make sure I didn't say that aloud though.

"So, Mom," Izzie interrupts Robbi mid-sentence, causing her to stop her tirade on psychics and the prosperous farm she was supposedly inheriting within the next three years. I had a feeling I was the only one actually listening. "Have you been...working anywhere?" she asks subtly. I was curious about that myself. I mean, I know it didn't take a ton of resources to live in a trailer but Izzie and I knew from personal experience that it took some sort of income.

"Oh you know, this and that," she shrugs simply. It sounded a lot to me like the this and that really weren't anything at all. Izzie reaches across the table to get the salt, her mother gasping as a certain stone on her finger glimmers in the light. "Cricket," she breathes out, taking her hand before she has a chance to grab what she wanted and pulling it closer to her eyes, stretching Izzie across the table. "You forgot to tell me you were engaged too?" Is that what we were going with now? Forgetting? "And what a ring."

"Actually," I say ignoring Izzie's attempts to stop me as a smile grew on my face. She had a right to know, if my mother knew her's should as well. Plus I wanted everyone to know, everyone should be aware that this was my wife and I loved her and she was mine. So now I'm the one smiling like a kid on Christmas while Izzie looks awkward and unsure, a bit of a switch in our roles. "We're more than engaged."

"Alex," Izzie whispers to me in a whisper. I shrug, what difference was it going to make if we told her now or a year from now? I didn't lie, and it was about time Izzie stopped with it as well. For one she kind of sucked at it, and Robbi, despite her many faults, didn't deserve it.

"You mean my baby got married?" she asks and Izzie gives a half smile before nodding, eliciting an ear piercing shriek from her mother. She was a teenage girl, or at least she sounded like one right now. "How could you not have invited me?"

"It was last minute," Izzie answers, not bothering to go into the details of our spontaneous, perfect marriage. The one she had unknowingly planned for the two of us and that I'd so willingly joined without having a second thought. She was Izzie, my life. Marrying her seemed like nothing in my mind, not with what she was to me really. I wasn't the marrying type, but before Izzie I wasn't the type for a lot of things.

Robbi gets up and hugs her, this time there isn't any sobbing as she holds her daughter's head against her chest. Izzie looks awkward with her face all smushed against her mother, but eventually she shifts and also wraps her arms around her mom. "You're all grown up, aren't you?"

Izzie had been grown up for years. You don't have a baby at sixteen and not grow up. Well, I guess there was obviously the occasional exception to the rule on that one.

Next I know I'm the one being assaulted by Robbi as she too wraps her arms around me and "welcomes me to the family" whatever that meant. I awkwardly hug her back, not really knowing the woman very well aside from what Izzie had said and her brief visit a few months ago. "Are you sure he's good enough for you?" she questions once she's finally sitting again.

Izzie rolls her eyes at the question, but I can't help but wonder if she could be on to something. I wasn't the worst guy out there, but Izzie could do better as far as I was concerned. She doesn't say anything like that though as she smiles brightly at me, kisses me and giggles as she answers with a simple, "Positive."

7:01 PM

We were hugging Robbi goodbye. I personally wasn't too upset in seeing her go and Izzie didn't seem to depressed herself over the matter. We'd gone back to the apartment after lunch and Iz had excitedly taken her mom on as drawn out of a tour as possible for our tiny little place. She gushed over the portrait that hung proudly on our wall and packed her a tupperware of cookies, thank god.

Robbi was so enthusiastic over the place, and it made us both laugh when she made a comment over how clean it was. Clearly she lived in a pig sty, since our Christmas decorations were all in disarray right now. "I'm coming back sometime soon," her mom promises Izzie. I didn't mind that at all. I was glad to know that she could come over some day when I had to work or something, keep her company. It was the days that it was just supposed to be just Izzie and me that I minded.

"We'd love to have you, Robbi," I say since Izzie hadn't looked like she was going to be replying anytime soon.

"Love you, Mom," Izzie says as she pulls her mom into a brief hug, looking more ready to get rid of her than anything else. "I promise I'll be fine."

"I'll still be coming back," she assures us and presses a hand to her daughter's cheek. "If nothing else my psychic will be keeping a closer eye on you for sure." Well we felt threatened now.

"See ya, Robbi," I say with a smile as we both kind of gesture her out the door and wait for her to begin making her way to the elevators before shutting the door. Izzie falls against me with a quiet moan and buries her face in my shirt. It wasn't in a tired way, but an exasperated.

"That was mildly painful," she mutters as I pull her into the living room, side-stepping all of the laundry baskets we had lying around and pulling us both onto the couch in a horizontal position, her body curled up on top of mine.

"Mildly?" I ask and she laughs in agreement. "I missed a whole afternoon of sex. That qualifies as way more than mild pain." She giggles again, this time pulling away from the position she had tucked against me in order to lean up and kiss me, starting the rush of hormones. "What about cleaning?" I mutter out between her very inviting kisses.

"Screw cleaning," she answers as her hands begin unbuttoning my shirt. "Just take off your pants, would you?"

**Okay, I fail at life, let us all establish that. I really wish I could present this to you three days late with a solid reason as to why it is three days late, but all I can give you is I was tired. I wanted to sleep and not...think so much. I wanted to get on my computer and mess around on Youtube and watch Grey's Anatomy and it wasn't working anymore as I tried to persuade myself to do otherwise. Plus this chapter was impossible to write and I was never satisfied with what was coming out which discouraged me from writing which meant nothing was getting. However, I told myself that I was not going to sleep until I posted, and I'm exhausted so I leave you with this somewhat long, though substandard chapter hoping you will all forgive me and hopefully allow me to redeem myself over the next few days as I bring this to a close and give you all the conclusion of which you deserve. Speaking of which, you guys left me the most awesome reviews last chapter, seriously incredible. They made me all bright and shiny. So thank you! **

**Once again, apologies are being handed out and I want you all to cross your fingers and toes that Day 29 is easier for me to write than this piece of crap was. Sorry if it's as bad as I think it is, and also sorry if it is only half as bad as I think it is. Hopefully, I will see you tomorrow!**


	29. Chapter 29

Izzie – December 29th 5:30 AM

I hear the alarm go off for the first time in two weeks. I can't help but groan quietly as I reach out a hand to find him and hold him to me. I wasn't ready to surrender my husband to the hospital again yet, still too blissfully pleased in our untainted time together. "Don't go," I whimper pathetically, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding myself to him.

"Iz," he whispers, arms responding and wrapping around my torso to keep me in place. This was easier than I thought. "We do have to pay rent, remember?" I wrinkle my nose, annoyed at all of the silly, trivial things in life like rent and cancer and work. Why couldn't we live a life of sex and house planning and all of those gloriously lazy and wonderful activities?

"Screw the rent," is my answer, in imitation of Alex's response to many of life's trivial matters. As though it were really that easy. Today was my day to believe that for once. "We can be gypsies, or homeless even. You'd make a great hobo if you grew your beard out."

He kisses the top of my head, probably not really listening to my ramble. "You're stalling," he says, gently trying to remove me from him. I cling tighter, refusing to let go that easily. He could rip me off no problem, did he really want to, after all. "Come on, Izzie."

I don't relent, finding his lips with mine and trying to pull him back into our land of sexual escapes. Who cares if it's his first day back in two weeks? He can be a little late. After all, a lecture from Bailey was definitely worth morning sex. We'd accepted those terms several times in our intern years, and even some in our residency whether she was our boss any longer or not. "I have work," he mutters in between our kisses. He didn't seem as committed anymore though, as rolls me over and pins me beneath him. A laugh radiates from my chest and a smile spreads on his face.

"I don't," I retaliate with a cheeky smile as his lips find a spot on my neck and begin doing some glorious work there. Oh god I just wanted to keep him all day.

He pulls away to answer me, leaving a pout of disappointment on my face. I'd been enjoying myself a little too much for him to stop now. "So I should just...abandon all of my responsibilities because you have nothing better to do?" he asks, rolling his eyes as I nod my head and force his lips to find mine again. "Weren't you the one who almost didn't allow us to spend a day in bed because you had to clean?"

"I was young then," I say, removing my own clothing since he was making no move to do it. It was good pajama pants were so easy to remove. "Far more foolish." I laugh at his mischievous grin as he tugs on the hem of my shirt. Kissing me, once, twice, before pulling away and getting out of bed. "Hey!" I object, fully awoken and turned on. "Leaving now if just rude."

He doesn't say anything as he grabs a pile of laundry out of the basket that still sat unfolded. "I have to shower," he explains. I get up eagerly, that sounded like it would work to me. "You don't."

I sigh and flop back onto the pillow, crossing my arms over my chest and pulling my pants back on. "Tease!" I yell after him as he leaves the room. I'd try and persuade him when he came back, covered in nothing but an easily removed towel, but it would seem that despite my highly increased sexual frustration I was still exhausted. So my plans never came to fruition, nor did I say goodbye to my husband as sleep unfortunately claimed me once again.

11:25 AM

Ringing, I've woken up to a very obnoxious ringing that was just carrying on and on, ever so persistent in it's attempt to make sure I'm fully woken. My hand flops out to find it, scattering things along the floor as I search. Somehow the sound is still present as I flip my phone open and mutter a tired, "Hello?" There's no response at first and when I bother to crack my eyes open I realize it is because I have the phone upside down. I flip it over and answer with another, "Hello."

I hear laughter on the other end, unmistakably belonging to a certain someone who I just so happened to be married to. He better be waking me up for something good. "Were you _still_ sleeping?" he asks and I can almost see him shaking his head at me.

"No," I deny, although we probably both saw right through the lie of that. "Well, maybe." I glance over the clock, documenting the time and understanding why he might be laughing at me right about now. After all, it was almost noon and I was answering my phone upside down because I was still out cold. "It's your fault," I add for good measure.

"Uh-huh, sure, my fault," he agrees in a condescending tone. Ass.

"What do you want?" I ask, now irritated both with how late I slept and the fact that I kind of felt like rolling back over to go to sleep again. He'd been up for six hours and I hadn't even eaten breakfast yet. It was kind of ridiculous.

"Just to make sure you're still alive," he answers and it sounds like a joke. I know though that, in a way, that was a serious response. He was legitimately concerned when he wasn't with me, often making these calls in the middle of the day to make sure I wasn't laying on the kitchen floor dead or anything. I couldn't blame him, we'd had a good amount of scares over the past few months, but still, it seemed unnecessary in my mind. "And tell you that tonight we're finishing what we started."

I flush at the memory and my body's immediate reactions to the memories. I'd forgotten I was annoyed at him for ditching me this morning as well. Who lead someone on like that and left them unsatisfied. Cruel it was. Well, not really, but I could be dramatic about it if I wanted.

It's with his suggestion of finishing our previous activities that the idea springs to my mind, the piece of fabric still discarded on the ground from before. It was unworn to this day, even though I'd purchased it weeks ago for the holiday season that had long since past. Still, it'd be a perfect little flirty piece for the evening, making sure to entice Alex even further. I still wasn't sure as to how it would look on my sick, sallow body with no hair on my head to be seen. That used to be one of my favourite effects of lingerie, how I could let my hair down and it'd fall over my shoulders and cover some of my exposed skin. It had a look to it that made me feel that much more attractive.

But oh well, I'd be sexy to Alex and it would be something different than our current tradition of seeing who can get the other undressed quicker. I'd be happy the day my old things fit, but what I had now need to be put to use too, especially since I only had a few more days that such thoughts could be entertained.

"Hell yes we are."

2:33 PM

I do one last glance around the room, pleased with my work at De-Christmasing the house. It made me sad, but happy at the same time as this crazy, hectic time of our lives drew to a close and we moved on to the next month, all new sorts of possibilities to be imagined and accomplished.

What bothered me now was the utter realization of the fact that I had no where to put any of these things. Thankfully I insisted on getting a real tree or I'd be lost as to where to put that too. I was pretty pleased with myself. I had managed to haul the whole thing out to the hallway by myself. I'd had intentions of somehow getting it down three flights of stairs and out to the dumpster as well, but our Mexican neighbors, who didn't speak a bit of English came out at the same time I did and took it from me to carry it out without saying a word. I called out a gracias after them, but they didn't really acknowledge it.

I go back and forth in my mind for a moment, trying to consider places in the apartment that I could store all of this stuff. Clearly I hadn't thought it out very well during the purchasing process. I figured I'd make it work when the time came. Well, now the time was here and I was drawing a blank. I pick my phone up and dial Meredith's number. Odds were she was working, but it was still worth a shot.

"Izzie?" she answers, sounding out of breath and distracted already. "Are you okay?" I had a feeling were it anyone else's number who had shown up on her screen she would have ignored it, but my whole cancer thing made even the hardest people to reach respond to me. Admittedly it was only because they were afraid I was dying, but still, it was nice.

"I'm fine, Mer," I answer quickly, trying to ease her worry. "I just wanted to ask you a favor, actually." Now wouldn't be a good time to ask, I could tell already that she was busy. There was probably some trauma case rolling in right now, a frenzy falling over the hospital as everyone rallied together and began triaging and working through the patients as effectively as they could. Surgeries would be covering the OR boards as everyone scrambled to get in on a good one. Cristina would quickly hog anything cardio as Derek called Meredith in for the neuro. Alex would work on the kid of the accident, helping heal his tiny internal injuries or something. George would be in the brunt of it all, apparently he'd be chosen as idealistic for trauma, so he would be on Hunt's side, rushing off to the OR with a patient who had little time left. It would fast paced and exciting and brilliant, and I was missing every damn second of it.

"No, no, shoot," she answer, taking me by surprise. She certainly sounded busy...I hear a male voice I the background, bidding a goodbye and I can't help the childish gape that appears on my face.

"Meredith Grey," I say, meaning for it to come out in a scolding tone but it ended up being more amused than anything else. Maybe a little envious too. How I wish I could do those same activities in the on call room on my lunch break again.

"Don't talk like you haven't done it," she answers and I shrug my shoulders, knowing I was caught and moving on.

"Whatever, how much space do you have at your house?" I ask, wandering into the kitchen to find something to eat. I realized now I hadn't had anything since getting up. I'd just taken a shower and then started my removal of all Christmas decorations. So even if it was nothing more than a cookie going into my stomach, it was still satisfying. I wondered if there was anyone out there who would still be accepting Christmas cookies four days after the fact? We needed to get rid of them somewhere. Maybe I could go find some homeless people...would that be wrong?

"You two don't need to move back in, do you?" she asks, sounding a little panicked. I almost laugh, clearly they had wanted us out. They furnished our apartment for god's sake. If that wasn't a message I didn't know what was.

"No," I assure her quickly. The thought made me a shudder on the inside as well. Finding them fully naked on the stairs in rather...compromising positions once was more than enough times in my life. I had to wonder though, how did that work? I mean, come on, rug burn people. "I just have Christmas stuff I need to store and...no where to store it."

"Oh," she answers, sounding far calmer now. "Yeah, yeah that's fine. I can come over on my lunch break if you want?" The offer makes me smile, as did the idea of getting out of the empty, lonely apartment and spending time with a friend. Speaking of friends, I needed to exchange gifts with George still. His gift still wrapped and ready, but no longer under the tree considering it had just been thrown out. Now it was in our closet, mildly hidden to avoid Alex's comments on it. I knew that there would be some had I left it out.

"That'd be awesome," I agree, already stalking off to my bedroom to find something to wear and a scarf to match. Were it not just Mer and I moving boxes from one place to the next I might put makeup on too. Hardly seemed worth it if it was just her and I though. I would wear some tonight maybe, with my...outfit. "But wait, if you weren't on your break already then what were you and Derek..."

"Give it a rest, Iz," she says and I smile. It's a good thing we hardly make anything a year, or else we might occasionally feel guilty for all of the on-the-clock pleasures we take. "Honestly," I hear her mutter before hanging up.

4:11 PM

"Okay," I say as I carry the final box in to the house and up the stairs, passing it to Meredith who was perched awkwardly on the ladder leading to the attic as she shoved the boxes up there. "This is the last one."

"Alex wasn't exaggerating was he?" she asks as she heaves the box up and into the attic before carefully climbing down the rather unsturdy ladder to the ground below.

"Depends on what he said exactly," I answer, imagining already his description of our very...festive apartment. I had to admit, it was done up enough that now that things were down, it felt terribly empty. I'd need to go shopping somewhere soon, maybe just do some browsing online next week when there was nothing else to do, and find some things to cover our walls and make it feel more homey. Pictures, lamps, real pillows that actually matched our furniture, all things I thought should be acquired.

"That he thought you guys could have fed a third world country with the amount of money you spent on Christmas decorations." I roll my eyes at both Alex's absurd statement and Meredith just claiming she believed it. It wasn't that bad...at least, it could have been worse.

"Drama queen," I mutter in reference to Alex. "How's his first day back going?" I ask, having him on my mind since he had left this morning. Had he landed a good surgery? Was he spending too much time worrying about me? Was Bailey on his ass over missing so much work? It was only two weeks, but for surgeons that was like a lifetime. A lot happened in two weeks, especially at Seattle Grace Hospital where rare cases and medical phenomenons were common occurrences. It made me wonder, how much had I missed in six months?

Shaking the thought from my head I force my mind back onto Alex. He had to be happy to be back to work, out of the house and away from doing nothing. Well aside from the sex having, I'm sure he was upset about lacking some of that. "I should make him dinner," I say aloud. It was a good idea, after all. I was feeling well for the one of the last times over the next few days and I should do something nice for him to come home to.

It was fun for me, and would be an excellent buildup to our activities afterward. The idea of wearing my outfit to dinner was entertaining to me, undoubtedly something Alex would enjoy. I wasn't so sure though, for one it was a little on the slutty side since I wanted to make him a nice meal, and two I didn't know if I felt like having my near naked, sick body on display for that long. It may only be Alex, the one person allowed to see my bald head and hold my hand when it was all dried and cracked, but still, I wanted him to see me as sexy despite all of that.

"Because he's a drama queen?" Meredith questions, referring to my statement from moments before. We walk into her living room and she sinks down on to the couch, laying her head back and staring up at the ceiling. She looked exhausted, and I wondered how many hours she'd been up. Twenty four wasn't uncommon a lot of days, thirty six a pretty often span of time to spend at the hospital as well, usually a little time would be found for a nap in the oncall room. It didn't seem like Mer had been using the on call room for that purpose however.

"No, because I like to cook," I answer instead. It was funny too, out of the five of us I was the only who knew how to cook. I'd be showing up here on weekend mornings to feed Meredith's children in order to save them from a life of breakfasts consisting of nothing more than cereal and toast. I wasn't too worried about Cristina, since she wasn't having children. Did she though, well, I think they'd live a life of fast food and whatever she happened upon in her fridge, kind of like she did. "Give me a ride to the grocery store?" I ask hopefully. I could walk from my apartment, and were the weather in better conditions I would. I was personally afraid of falling on the ice and cracking my head open though. I wasn't exactly steady on my feet anymore.

"Sure, Iz, why not," she complies. Maybe if I kept this up she'd buy us a second car too.

8:12 PM

I hum happily to myself as I pour the wine into the sauce, stirring as I go. It was about time Alex and I had a dinner together, just him and I with no mother's or family or hospital staff. I loved cooking, and more so I loved cooking for my husband. Well, really the idea of cooking for my husband because in all actuality, I hadn't really done so yet, not really. I could distinctly remember a younger version of myself fantasizing of the man of my dreams throwing his briefcase on the floor as he came home for work and kissing me happily as we sat down to eat. There'd be candles and music in the background and the food would be just perfect. He'd hold out his hand and dance with me afterward and it would be romantic and perfect.

Perhaps those things weren't quite my goals today. After all, I don't think there's much in life that could ever cause Alex Karev to dance for any reason. Which didn't really matter since I'd highly prefer after dinner sex over after dinner dancing. The idea was the same though, having someone come home to me and doing something nice for them just because I could. Maybe there were cancer scarves adoring my head and my next chemo date looming over the two of us, but we could always pretend for a couple of hours, live in a happy, couple-y bubble of wonderfulness.

So it was with a wide smile that I prepared dinner, imagining it finished just as Alex walks through the door. Which, if he got out on time, it would be. I pour the vodka sauce over the strained penne, finding it hard to resist the aroma that took over my olfactory senses, reminding me how hungry I was after a day of eating very little. I needed to make sure I didn't tell Alex that, he wouldn't be very happy.

The timer for the crescent rolls goes off and I replace them with a cake I'd prepared, even if we didn't need much else in the house in terms of sweet things. I couldn't prepare a full dinner and just overlook dessert, it was completely out of my habit.

The day didn't seem so lonely now, as I set the table for two. My husband would be home in a matter of minutes and he was mine and I his and at the end of the day that was what mattered. I wasn't alone, never for long, and on the days when it felt like it I just needed to remind myself that he was there. The day sucked when I sat around doing nothing, sure, but it would be better by the time night rolled around and I wouldn't be alone anymore.

Next I remove my apron, revealing the sexy lingerie I'd bought ages ago. I was even more pleased with my decision to wear it now, all concerns vanishing from my mind as I scanned it in the mirror. I was glad I'd gone with the smaller size, it fit me much better and made me look far less sickly with the way it held my body. I was excited with the idea of putting it to use tonight, and hopeful that Alex would appreciate as well. Then again, it was Alex so of course he'd appreciate it.

The food looks perfect as I carry it to the table, denying my own desires as I set it down. I would wait for him, he couldn't be much longer. I strum my fingers along the table top as I wait, feeling anxious and hungry and bored all at once. Wine, I should get wine, I think. So I jump back up and pull out the nice wine glasses I'd forced Alex to buy in anticipation of his family visiting. Not once had we broken out any alcohol for them, or even ourselves surprisingly enough. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn if Alex had snuck a beer or two during the time though. He probably didn't want me to know since I couldn't drink much. Tonight I wouldn't go beyond a single glass of wine, even if it had been days since my last chemo treatment.

My hand slips as I pull the first glass down, causing it to shatter all along the floor, much like the mug Alex had broken yesterday morning. "Shit," I whisper to myself, ignoring the small amount of blood trickling from my forearm. We hadn't even had the chance to use it and I had already smashed it against the floor. What happened to having strong, steady surgical hands? Once upon a time they existed, I never dropped anything and could knit like a pro. Now apparently taking glasses down from high places was a hazard to me.

I side step it as carefully as I can, making sure my feet don't come in contact with any of the sharp, broken pieces scattered along the floor. We didn't very well need to have me go to the emergency room again for more stitches. I find the broom still sitting out form yesterday and sweep all of the broken pieces together, trying to not let the annoyance of having broken it get to me and ruin my evening. Accidents happen, it didn't really matter.

I dump the pieces in the trash along with my irritation toward myself. Alex could take the bag out later, I found I had no desire to go brave the snow and ice now just to toss the trash in the dumpster because it had a bit of broken glass in it.

The next one I pull down more carefully and then pour an even amount of wine to both cups and set them carefully on the table. I evaluate one more time, trying to think of anything else I could be forgetting. I consider turning down the thermostat for Alex, so cold myself from wearing so little, but I decide he can handle the heat just fine. We'd be naked soon enough anyhow.

There's nothing left to do, I determine and so I sit, crossing my legs and leaning back as I wait with anticipation for him to come home so I can forget about lonely days and disappointing mornings and we can move on to romantic meals and fulfilling nights. It'd happen, he'd be home before I knew it.

9:56 PM

I slide the knife one final time across the top of the cake, leaving it perfectly frosted and prepared. I step back, proud of my work and just considering the fact that I should have purchased some fruit to go with it. I stretch my back out, hearing a satisfying pop as it cracks and the pressure is relieved.

I heave a sigh as I glance at the clock on the microwave. Clearly his surgery had run late and he would just be home a bit later tonight. Were it anything else, or going to be any later, he would have called and told me. I set the oven to warm and slide our previously served dinners back into the pan, sliding the whole thing into the oven. I could just leave it in there for a little while and that way when he got home it would be hot and ready to eat, like when I had pulled it out for the first time.

Plus, now the cake had been finished and I wouldn't have to worry about getting that out. So things were fine, it didn't really matter that he wasn't quite home yet. I'd lived this life myself, and would again one day. The job demands things from you, makes you stay late even if you don't want to. Knowing Alex he was probably saving a life right now, in surgery for some kid who couldn't wait another hour let alone until morning. He was great at his job, and committed too, just as I had been. I admired him for it.

So I didn't really mind as I sat myself down at the table once again, folding my arms and resting them on the table as I helplessly stare at the door. He'd be home soon. Before I knew it, he'd be home.

**A little on the short side, I know, sorry, but at least it's kind of on time, right? Thank you all so, so much for your kind reviews last chapter. I'm still astounded that so many of you are around to keep reading this and are enjoying it despite the size of each chapter which makes for no quick read. I figured out while procrastinating earlier that this story is longer than "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" which, if any of you have read or seen that book, can probably see how insane that is. Personally I think I must be a little crazy. **

**Tomorrow will hopefully be up on time, however I have come to discover that the reason I've been so tired is because, sure enough, I'm sick! Fingers crossed that won't impede on my writing and I can have everything written and finished for you brilliant people on time. I'll see you tomorrow!**


	30. Chapter 30

Alex – December 30th 3:22 AM

Annoyed, angry, irritated, frustrated, and pretty damn exhausted, that's how I was feeling right now. The day had been long to begin with, catching up on some of the things I'd missed, convincing Arizona to let me in on a surgery this afternoon, and reminding myself why I shouldn't punch O'Malley in the face were all apart of my struggles. Then I had somehow managed to get myself pulled in on an emergency valve replacement at six which hit complications and left me stuck in the OR until after two in the morning. I had just now finished my rounds and was walking toward through the car park, trying to remember where I'd parked my car this morning.

I was drained, physically and mentally, and I felt kind of bad that I'd never had the chance to call Izzie. By the time I was out of surgery it was too late though, and I hardly wanted to call and wake her up. She would have been able to figure it out, she lived the life of a surgeon not too long ago, and would again someday soon. It wasn't like she was sitting at home worrying or that she'd try and wait up for me. She got it, but even so I still felt kind of bad. Our plans for carrying on the previous morning's activities were no longer a possibility by far.

I throw my things down onto the passenger seat as I climb in, fingers protesting to the cold leather of the steering wheel as I start the car. The temperature had to be below freezing and the bitter wind hardly helped anything. "Damn Seattle," I mutter to myself as I drive. I shouldn't talk to anyone until I had eaten and slept, I decided. Especially Izzie, because then I'd just be cranky and that would make her cranky and we'd have some stupid fight and, ugh, I just wasn't in the mood for it right now.

A detour to the 24-hour Mcdonalds drive thru is made as I remember there was nothing at home aside from week old, soggy lasagna and some salt. I needed to find time to do everything else as well as get to the grocery store. Until then a Big Mac would have to do however. Technically, I could go buy some food now at the Super Wal-Mart around the corner, but I was in no mood for such a thing. I wanted to go home, strip down into my underwear and get in bed with my wife. Hopefully after that I wouldn't have to wake up for awhile, but I'd only gotten Mer to cover my morning rounds, meaning I'd still need to be in by eight.

The relief I feel when I pull into my parking spot at home is great, liberating even as I step out of the car, gather my crap in one hand and trudge my way up the steps. I pull out my key to unlock the door, but am surprised, and a little concerned, when I find it unlocked. Really, Iz? I just toss my shit to the floor, not really caring as I kick my shoes off. The smell that greats me totally throws me off, as does the sight at the kitchen table. I'd been distracted by the other things around me at first, the door being unlocked, heavenly scents coming from the kitchen-of-no-food, but my focus is entirely contained as soon as my eyes land on Izzie's slumped over form at the kitchen table. My heart stops, literally ceases to beat as I run over to her and my shaking hands frantically search for a pulse.

Her quiet, "Mm," that greets me is the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard, allowing blood to pump through my veins once again. She doesn't stir though, not really. It would seem she's out cold, head cradled in her arms at a ninety degree angle as she sleeps. It must be killing her neck. The dots start connecting after that, now that the world could contain more than just Izzie again. The table was set, candles were burning, and the oven was on with delicious smells radiating from it.

She'd made me dinner. She'd made some damn fancy, romantic dinner and then sat here, just waiting for me to get home. And me? I hadn't even called her to tell her I wouldn't be home on time. I could have scrubbed out for a couple of minutes, given her quick call. But I hadn't, and now she was asleep at the dinner table.

"Oh, Iz," I say quietly as I go to the kitchen, flip off the oven and, out of curiosity, peer into it to see the consistently delicious penne in vodka sauce dish sitting there. For whatever reason I felt legitimately guilty at the empty McDonalds to go bag that sat at the front door with my other stuff. I shake it off best I can, blowing out the candles she'd set before doing my best to gently lift her in my arms and carry her to bed. It wasn't easy, she was in an awkward position and all ninety pounds of her was absolute dead weight, but I make it work, shifting her as I go to try and jostle her less.

"Alex?" she murmurs as I push open the bedroom door and lay her down. For the first time I document what she's wearing. My eyes can barely see anything, but there wasn't much question as to what the small, lacy material on her body was. I hated myself.

"Shh, go back to sleep," I try and silence her, pulling the covers up tight around her exposed body. She doesn't say anything after that and I waste no time in climbing into bed next to her. She turns and her tired eyes find me, still bleary with sleep.

"You're late," she accuses quietly, reaching out a hand to pull herself against me and tucking her head against my chest. She sighs quietly, a little hum coming with it as well. My heart reacts in a way that I don't understand so much as I feel a desire to do nothing more but to hold her close to me and cry.

"I know," I answer, annoyed with myself at the break in my voice. Guilt, it was from the guilt that made me like this, right? That made sense at the very least. "I'm so sorry, Iz."

She doesn't answer after that, her breathing evening out and the tight grip she'd had on my shirt falling limp. Izzie would understand, she got why I was late and that things happen at the hospital and you have to save lives. She knew that as well as I did. In a years time it would be something the both of us would be dealing with as a couple, I would have to understand when she had to break plans and she'd get it when I was late. We were surgeons; we had commitments to uphold to our patients just like we had promises to keep to one another.

We would adjust, find our footing and make it work. Late dinners and middle of the night sex, unorthodox just as we were. She wouldn't be angry tomorrow morning anymore than she was tonight. Still, I wasn't too pleased with myself, all of the elements of the dinner she'd tried to put together for me brought together and then crashing apart as I failed to show up, with no notification to her whatsoever. I'd do better next time. I knew now, how important it was to make sure she knew when I wouldn't be making it home as I should. So now that I knew, I'd do better. That was a big part of marriage after all, wasn't it? Just trying to do better for the person you love.

7:43 AM

Four hours, that's how much sleep I'd gotten, and probably hardly even that much. I'd set my phone to vibrate, not wanting to wake Izzie so early in the morning after she'd been so tired the night before. Now though I wasn't so sure about that plan. I didn't know if I should wake her and say goodbye, add another apology, or just try and sneak out so she could rest longer.

What I did know was that the longer I lay here contemplating it, the later I'd end up being to work. I didn't need attendings beating down me today as I tried to get to make my way in to peds without letting on that I wanted to work in peds. It wasn't that I was...ashamed necessarily. I just wasn't that guy though. The one who made kids laugh even if they felt sick or put them to ease before they went into the MRI machine. I didn't connect with patients or take the time to get to know their quirks and ways to make them more comfortable. At least, I didn't use to be that guy. Somewhere along the way my wife got cancer and patient care became more important to me. I felt the gratification of having a patient feeling comfortable enough to rely on you. And I discovered that I wasn't my dad, I could be good with kids. Somehow, I could work with them and talk to them in a way that was natural to me and relaxing to them. But peds wasn't hardcore, peds wasn't cardio or plastics. It was...peds. It was snotty nosed kids who needed their tonsils taken out, right? But then a case rolls through and you get the opportunity to save this little life that hasn't been lived yet by doing some dramatic, out there surgery on these tiny organs, and it feels a hell of a lot more hardcore after that.

So I needed to be disinterested, or else I'd never hear the end of it from Yang, but maybe I could also show Dr. Robins that I meant business so she'd let me back on as her resident. It was a damn fine line, but I'd make it work. Right now I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and fall back asleep next to my wife, though.

It wasn't much of an option however, so instead I silently talk myself into getting up, gently disentangling Izzie's limbs from around me and making sure to cover her back up. I don't spend much time pulling out something to wear and then just run my fingers through my hair. I brush my teeth half as thoroughly as I should and go back to our room, closing the curtains and crouching down near where Izzie lay, kissing her forehead. "Iz," I say quietly, having told myself that I'd say goodbye if she would wake up easily, but not if she was still sleeping soundly. "Izzie, I'm leaving."

Half-closed eyes meet mine as she stares at me for a second. Were I to leave now she probably would have no memory of any interaction. I don't though, instead pressing a kiss gently to her slowly responding lips. "Love you."

"You too," she answers through a yawn as she rolls over, leaving me smiling in response to her back. I don't have time to linger any longer, already late for work and I hadn't even left the house yet. The pit of guilt that forms in my stomach as I walk out into the living room didn't help either. The whole scene from last night was displayed, now covered in the sun streaming through the windows.

Candles sitting in pools of burnt wax, dishes that had been pushed aside so Izzie could lay her head on the table, a gorgeously decorated cake sitting on the kitchen counter. She'd put effort into the whole thing, wanted to make it nice after my first day back to work I'm sure. I walk away from it though, not having the time or energy to clean it up. Instead I just throw on my jacket, shove my feet into my shoes, and leave.

9:19 AM

"Oh, shut up, would you?" I snap back at Yang as she criticizes my running lip stitch for the third time in our skills lab. I wasn't in the mood for a skills lab in the first place. Even worse was when I showed up ten minutes late, got an angry comment from Bailey, and then saw there was no place else to sit but the one vacant seat next to Cristina Yang. It was very similar to the feeling I'd gotten on the first day of 10th grade Chemistry, walking in to the classroom to find the only available seat next to the weird kid who loved talking about comic books and nothing else. At least this was just two hours as opposed to forty five minutes every day for a year.

Unfortunately my biting comment had been a little on the loud side, making it's way to the ears of more than just Yang, it's intended recipient. "Alex," I hear Meredith say behind me. She sounded reprimanding and concerned at the same time. It was an obnoxious tone, if you ask me.

"What? She's being annoying," is my response as eyes make their way to the back of the class. It wasn't like she couldn't take it for god's sake. I told Christina to shut up on a regular basis. It was my way to keep from murdering her.

"Fine, you screw up in surgery and kill your patient then," she shrugs, looking back to her own work that she did effortlessly. It wasn't that I commonly struggled with a running lip stitch. I'd been doing them since the beginning of first year residency after all. It just wasn't my day is all, and it had only just begun. I was too tired to keep my eyes open it felt on the way to work this morning, so I stopped and got some coffee, and then had a couple more after that. Now, as an affect from all of the caffeine my hands were shaking, making anything involving skills labs and microscopic surgeries and running lip stitches about ten times more difficult.

I literally want to thank God as my pager begins to beep, a 911 flashing on my screen for a patient I didn't even know I had. All I knew is it was on the peds floor and I didn't care if they were mine or not. They were now if it got me out of skills. I get up, dropping my stitching supplies and gratefully walking away from Yang. "911," I inform Bailey before walking out, valuing my life a little too much to not say anything at all.

I pick my pace up as I go, unsure as to what I was being called for but knowing it must be urgent. Arizona had probably not answered her page, leaving me to be the next candidate. People move out of my way as I run through the halls, skipping the elevator and heading straight for the stairs. As surgeons you weren't given much of a choice to stay healthy, not if you wanted to get to your patients on time.

"What happened?" I ask as I appear in the doorway of a seven year old boy who held his stomach and cried in agony. "Give him something would you?" I snap at the nurse as I enter the room, trying to coax the boy to let me feel his stomach. His monitors are reacting, making sure everyone in the room knew of his increasing blood pressure that was beginning to spike just a little too high if we wanted to get him into surgery.

"We think his bowel is perforated," one of the nurses report as she passes his chart over to me.

He'd been admitted for stomach ulcers, one of them must have burned a wall straight through the lining of his intestines. "Damn it," I mutter as I hand the nurse back his chart. "He needs to get into surgery. Now." An intern goes to call an OR as I pull the railings up on the bed and disconnect him from his machines so we can begin pushing him out of the room. "Where's the kids parents?" I wasn't used to finding them all alone like this. Usually there was a sobbing mother or screaming father when I responded to 911 in the peds. Where were all the frantic cries?

"He's an orphan," someone replies which clears things up awful fast.

"Well get whoever's consent you need and someone get Dr. Robins!" I'd done plenty of bowel obstructions in the past, but bowel perforation was newer territory that I didn't feel like delving into quite yet. Too many things went wrong on surgeries like that, patients died too easily. I wasn't going to be responsible for this kid's death. Not if I could help it.

10:04 AM

"Well?" I ask as the nurse I'd sent out to retrieve Dr. Robins returns, no one else in tow. "This kid _can't _wait," I stress further. The only thing I could say had improved about his condition is that he was sedated now, no longer feeling the pain. I was scrubbed in and ready to go as soon as Dr. Robins showed up.

"She said she can't leave the surgery she's in now and that you can handle it."

"She said what, exactly?" I ask again, mind boggled by the thought as I try and quench the mixture of excitement and nervousness that shot through me. The thrill of the cut was the best you'd ever get. Flying solo and succeeding, there wasn't anything better, but when you failed? When you know that you're the only one responsible and someone is no longer living because of a mistake you made...well that sucked. And I was the kind of guy who could occasionally be a screw up so... "Does she know I'm by myself?"

"Yes," the nurse sounds irritated in her answer. "She said you'd be fine." I take a breath in, going over in my mind the steps I'd be taking. We didn't have time to wait, so really there wasn't much of a choice here unless I flagged down Bailey or the Chief. "Should I go tell her otherwise?"

"No," I answer firmly, holding my hand out. "Scalpel."

12:36 PM

I was getting my forehead patted down for about the fourth time as I checked the kids bowels, running my hand over the intestine and checking for any blackened areas. The surgery had gone smoothly, better than I'd thought it would originally. All I needed was to check and close now. My hands stall in their movements as find something that didn't belong in a stomach, or anywhere else along the human body.

"Is that?" One of the interns starts to ask as I push aside the intestine to get a better look.

"A mass," I finish, appalled by the size of the blackened cluster of cells. In my mind I knew that fifty percent of all stomach cancers were caused by H. Pylori, which also caused ulcers, but it was still shocking to consider someone so young who, after a successful surgery I'd imagined walking out of here next week, to now likely cancer. "We need to remove it."

I sigh, realizing now that I was nowhere near done with this kid, and I was still on my own. "Scalpel," I say for the second time. I would need to open him up further to check for anywhere else that the cancer might have spread. I explore through, checking the organs to see which ones contained things that shouldn't be there.

The gallbladder would have to be resected, as would the spleen, it appeared. With a sense of dread, I go to check the pancreas. My stomach drops as I look it over, finding the cancer has spread throughout it. There wasn't much I'd be able to do. I needed Dr. Robins already. I look to the nurse, the question must be written all over my face as she answers before I can ask anything. "I just called and they said she's still in surgery."

"Damn it," I mutter, looking at the cancer cargo of a kid in front of me. It was my responsibility to get as much of it out of him as I could. I decided how long he might have left to live. Either way he was going to die, but depending on how well I did, he might have a shot of at least making it to his eighth birthday.

2:38 PM

"Kids don't get colon cancer," I say to Dr. Robins as they wheel my kid out of the OR and to the recovery room. She'd showed up in the gallery five minutes before I started closing, pretty much useless to me at that point.

"Kids do get colon cancer, Karev. It's rare but it happens and you know that." I sigh slumping against the wall and running my hands over my face. This part of the job sucked. How do you tell a kid that he has a death sentence? Especially with a support system like the one he probably has in his foster home. He'd be sent back to the group home for sure. No one wanted to foster a sick kid.

"Yeah, well then they get colon cancer and get better," I answer. Kids were resilient, strong, they had good outcomes for cancer when it was caught early enough and colon cancer, that can be caught early enough most of the time. "There's too many symptoms for them to just not have noticed anything. He should be able to come in here and get six months of chemo and then be done with it. He shouldn't have to die." The symptoms were obvious enough to lead to a diagnosis. Stomach pains, diarrhea, vomiting, all chronic and persistent and what should be enough to get him to an endocrinologist. Then again, Izzie saw ghosts. Who was I to point a negligence finger?

"I know this is hard, Alex," she starts to say, but I'm in no mood to hear it. I push away from the wall, ready to go find some patients I could treat instead of deal with the ones that were already dead. It wasn't my fault. The surgery went well. I should be feeling good about that.

"It's not. Now if you'll excuse me I have work to do." I walk away with my dignity intact, no break downs occurring, thank god. "Dr. Bailey!" I call before she can walk past me. She turns with only a mildly irritated look on her face as she stops and waits with a raised eyebrow for me to speak. "I, uh, I was wondering if you had any surgeries I could assist in?" I offer hopefully. I needed something to do. Something I could accomplish with ease and then get off on time and go home and have sex with my wife. That was what needed to happen today.

"Maybe I do for someone who stayed in my skills lab this morning," she answers, already starting to walk away.

"Dr. Bailey," I say again, my tone adapting an irritated note to it. "That wasn't my fault!" She doesn't stop though and I have the desire to slam my foot into the wall in frustration. I hated work. I hated Cristina and Bailey and skills labs and dying kids. I hated the whole freaking mess.

"Hey," I hear cheerfully from behind me. I turn and sure enough Izzie is there, staring at me with a wide smile. She wasn't mad at me for last night, it would seem, but I really was not in any mood to be talking to her right now. In fact, it would be in the best interest of our marriage right now if she just walked away. "How's your day going?"

"Awesome," I answer, sarcasm dripping in my voice. "What do you want?" I shouldn't say anything else. I can hear my tone getting irritated and feel myself wanting to say things that just wouldn't help anything. I should refrain, be her husband and not a jackass. If only I knew how to switch between the two.

"That bad, huh?" she asks, her tone still all sweet and Izzie-like. "Listen, I thought maybe we could get lunch when you had the time. I brought some of last night''s dinner." She holds up the plastic bag with a tupperware of penne and the guilt assualts me all over again, the let down I'd been to her by not showing up and the scum I felt like for not having called. For normal people that would mean I react by treating her better than usual, offering another apology, dropping what I'm doing and going to have lunch with her.

But I'm Alex, so instead of having that response as I should, the guilt mixes with all the other crap going on and I get angry. "I'm busy," I reply shortly, wanting to send her away without making her too upset. "We can eat tonight."

"If you show up," she snaps back. I feel the stab of guilt and glare at her for it. I didn't want to be doing this right now. I wanted to be...cutting someone open and fixing whatever the hell was wrong with them for good. "Because after last night..." she trails off, leaving it hanging for me to fill in. At least now I knew that she was indeed mad about it.

"Why don't you go eat dinner with your little boy-toy?" I suggest, referring to George in my irritation. Hell, she cared about him plenty, let them eat her special dinner together and forget about me. Go for it. "Or if he's busy maybe you can call up your dead fiance. I'm sure he'd love to have lunch with you."

I see the flare in her eye as she stares me down and try my best to ignore the tears pooling in her eyes. She'd started it. "Go to hell, Alex," is all she says as she stalks away. God I sucked.

4:29 PM

The feel of the peds oncology floor gets under my skin for some reason, makes me feel all bleh inside as I look at all the kids around me with their shiny bald heads that mirrored my wife's. It bothered me in a way things didn't use to bother me, and in a way they shouldn't, considering I'm a doctor. But I made a promise and so I was here, walking through the halls on my way to the treatment room. The schedule said she'd just started a little while ago, no symptoms would have hit her yet.

She's sitting up in her recliner chair, magazine in hand as she flips through it. I notice that she's alone and wonder where her mom is. Before now I'd hardly seen the girl without her. "Hey," I say awkwardly as I walk over, not entirely sure if she'd want me there or not. She flashes me a bright smile, letting me know I was very much invited.

"Alex," she says in greeting, putting down her magazine and reaching over to pull the portable stool closer for me to sit down. "About time you showed up."

"Where's your mom?" I ask as I sit down. She was supposed to be getting outpatient chemo now. She came, got her dosage, and then left. No staying in the hospital unless other complications arose. She wouldn't be here for more than a few hours.

"Cafeteria. I told her she wasn't allowed to eat in front of me." I look around the room at the other kids sitting there. A TV was on for them, a little play area in the corner. It wasn't like the adult treatment center with a circle of chairs and IV poles. They gave the kids something to do, painted the walls with rainbows and animals. Hospitals always tried to make their peds centers cheery, and when they were empty maybe they could be. Once you walked in and saw all the sick kids though, your eyes were generally deterred from friendly looking giraffes. "So, are you not talking today or..." she trails off, a teasing look on her face that lets me know she's not angry just messing with me over the fact that I hadn't really said much.

"No, sorry, just thinking," I answer, thoughts falling to Izzie every time I catch Hannah's stare. Their eyes were so similar.

"Ah, well yesterday I was thinking about something," she says and I think she's messing with me again, but then I catch a look at her and realize she was trying to lead on to something. There must some conversation she wanted to have, and frankly I had a fair amount of explanations that I owed her.

"Oh yeah? What about?" She looks reluctant to say anything at first. Whatever she had on her mind must be something kind of big, the sort of thing you usually want to avoid discussing. "Want me to go first?" I offer, remembering her little game.

"Yeah," she answers, flicking the top of the zipper on her sweatshirt back and forth nervously. "You start."

"Okay, well, I had a crappy day that started out with a surgery on this kid."

"Uh-huh," she encourages, listening intently to what I had to say and obviously forgetting whatever had made her nervous, her hands now stilled again. "Did he die?"

"No, no not yet," I answer with a shake of my head. I still hated thinking about it. Especially since I knew had he of had the parents he deserved he would've been treated sooner. He would have been able to live. "I was dealing with a bowel perforation, which is bad enough, but then I find this mass."

"Oh no," she murmurs, knowing as well as I do what that meant. "And it's not the benign kind, is it?"

"No," I answer sadly. "And the more I looked, the more I found. It doesn't look like he'll make it to next year." I shake my head, just trying to keep myself from getting all worked up again. People were stupid. People were stupid and it bothered me.

"That sucks," she answers, sounding plenty upset herself. "I'd be in a bad mood after a day like that too." She would be, I bet. She seemed sensitive, like her mother.

"Yeah well then I took my crappy day out on my wife and now she's probably, like, filing divorce papers," I smile to show I'm just joking. Izzie probably had worse things in mind in retaliation. Not that I didn't deserve all of them.

"Do all married couples fight a lot or is it just you two?" she asks, and she has a good point. Izzie and I had been in more fights that she knew of in the time I'd known her than she was aware her parents fought in a whole year. Then again, they were the ones divorcing.

"We communicate poorly," I answer vaguely. "Alright, your turn."

She sighs, back to fiddling with her hands. "It was just, you mentioned something a while ago that I was thinking about," she starts. I stay silent, letting her continue. "And well, I was just wondering about it is all."

"Well shoot," I say. It couldn't be anything that terrible if we'd already discussed it before. Probably about her parents or something. I wondered if she was still carrying around that guilt over the matter.

"Okay, um, when we first started talking you said...you said that your wife, Izzie, that she had cancer like me. Only, you weren't so sure she was going to get better." She swallows hard and I see what she's getting at now. Before it'd been a far more harmless comment about her doctor's wife. Now it was her biological mother we were talking about and suddenly things seemed a little bit more real and dramatic. "So, is she? Going to get better, I mean."

"Hannah," I sigh at first, placing a hand over her sick little arm which causes her to still her hands. "That question isn't the easiest to answer."

"Why?" she asks quickly, not letting me add anything more.

"Because cancer can be unpredictable sometimes. Things happen, new tumors appear or the chemo seems like it stops working. Stuff goes on that doesn't always make sense," I explain the best I can, trying to keep my own emotions in check. Discussing Izzie's mortality wasn't the easiest thing for me to do.

"So you just...don't know?" she sounds confused, because I was the doctor with the answers, not the guy with more questions.

"I know somethings," I dispute. "I know that her oncologist said that the treatment seems like it's working." I'd never forget that day, like the ticking clock had finally been taken off of our marriage and we were both given this chance to believe we could have more. "And I know that I believe she'll get better because it's what gets me through the day and that, as far as I know, Izzie believes she's going to get better. I know that we plan a future and talk about when she comes back to work and consider when chemo will be finished. I know I want nothing more but for her to be better, but I'm a doctor and I can't...I can't just live in the same oblivious bubble that most husbands get to." I'm not gonna cry, I tell myself. No tears in front of the fourteen year old. "So I'm scared."

I catch a look at her and my dissolve fades as I watch her cry, obviously shaken by my answer. She was young, probably didn't understand how she even felt about her biological mom, let alone how she felt about her dying. She probably had plans and ideals and thoughts of how they might get to know each other or how one day when she was older they could be friends.

"I hope she does get better," she says sadly after a few minutes when were both sniffing and wiping at our eyes like we hadn't been crying just seconds ago. "She seems too nice to die."

"She'll get better," I answer, back to my mantra so I could function again. She gives me a small smile and I return it.

"Yeah," she copies, nodding her head. "We can both get better, right?"

"Right."

7:12 PM

"Izzie?" I ask tentatively as I step into the apartment that night. I'd gotten off early on purpose, having every intention of coming home and groveling before my wife if necessary. I'd felt awful all day, which did nothing to help my mood, and it was now time to rectify it before I ended up getting myself divorced and fired. "Iz?"

Turning the corner into our bedroom I find her, sitting on the floor with a box of stuff in front of her as she searches through it. Somehow it was of our stuff that must have been overlooked before with all of the Christmas decorations. It was anything big, it didn't seem. Right now all I saw were some socks and unused picture frames. "Hey," I say quietly, her eyes still focused on the project in front of her. "Are you not talking to me? 'Cause I definitely deserve it."

She sighs, setting down the towel she held in her hand and standing up, staring at me from halfway across the room. "When are you going to get it, Alex?" she asks. She had a voice that sounded frustrated and tired, and I'm worried that maybe I'm the one she's frustrated and tired with. What if she didn't want to deal with my shit anymore? What if she'd deemed me to crappy of a husband to keep putting up with?

"Get what?" I ask carefully. The apology was already in the back of my mind. I'd explain about the kid with the cancer, tell her how I was tired and that I hadn't meant to be such an ass. Then I'd explain that I love her and so I took it out on her. And she'd forgive me at the end of it all, because that was what we had to do. We would fight and bicker and maybe stop talking for a little while, but then at the end of the day we would forgive each other. We needed one another far too much not to. "What do I need to get, Iz?"

" That I choose you!" she cries out, a rush of emotions seemingly coming from out of nowhere in her. She has tears in her eyes and a break in her voice just as she begins. "Damn it, I choose _you, _Alex. I didn't marry George or go with Denny when he...when he was here for me. I don't want those things or those people or those relationships." She shakes her head and takes a few steps closer to me, stopping before either of us could reach out and touch one another. "And I don't know why you're so insecure and angry and bothered, because I have chosen you time and time again no matter how many times you mess up or how impossible it seems, I keep choosing you. Because I love you and I want to deal with all of your crap and I want to be married to you until the day I die, whether it be in sixty days or sixty years. That's the truth. It's what I think and believe and feel and I don't know how you could doubt it, but I see that you do and it sucks because this marriage can't be right if you don't trust that I'm in love with you and that George is my friend, nothing else and that Denny was the man I once loved, but no longer. Somehow you don't see that, and I'm out of ways to show you so you need to stop being a stubborn ass and open your eyes and accept it."

Her breathing is heavy by the time she is finished and she stands there, staring at me with this fixed look on her face that was a cross between an angry glare and her trying to fight off tears. The tears win out though, as they stream from her eyes and a sob escapes her throat. Knowing Izzie she'd probably been here all day, thinking and worrying and wondering, and now she was finally letting it out.

I sigh and reach my arms out to pull her in. I'm afraid at first that she won't allow me to, still angry at the way I'd talked to her earlier, as she should be of course. She doesn't fight me off at all, instead falling against me and burying her face in my chest. "I'm sorry," I say in response. I didn't really know what else to say, this was another new territory sort of situation for me. Did I say what I thought she wanted to hear? Did I say what I thought? What if what I thought was what she wanted to hear and then she didn't believe me though? I knew there was a reason I'd spent so much of my life avoiding all of this crap.

"Iz," I say, trying to get her to calm down. "I really am sorry, and you...you don't deserve how much of an ass I am." She let's out this short, strangled laugh of agreement as I begin to rub my hands up and down her back. "I don't...mean to do it, and I wish I didn't. It's just...I'm not always cut out for this stuff."

"Don't do that," she murmurs, pulling away enough to look at me as she wipes at her eyes. Why did it always seem like we were crying? "You are a good husband, Alex." I shrug in response to that. I was better than my dad, yeah, but that didn't take much. I did what I could, but I could still do better. For instance I could not yell at her when she's done nothing wrong at all. "You are," she reiterates, pulling my forehead against hers and kissing me. "You're just an idiot sometimes is all."

She smiles and I can't help but respond the same way, searching for her lips again as I kiss her gently. She answers with vigor, arms snaking around my neck. "Shall we finish what we started yesterday?" she questions, a mischievous glimmer in her eye that I can't refuse even if I wanted to. Only I definitely didn't want to.

"I guess, if you want," I answer nonchalantly as I push her back until her knees hit the side of our mattress and she lets herself fall back.

"Oh I want to," she answers, displaying that very thing to me with her lips. Our relationship might not always be perfect, and sometimes I was an idiot or she was irrational, but we could work it out in the end. We would work together, because we had a marriage and we loved each other, and I for one, was in it for whatever might come up next.

**Day 30 has been accomplished. We're reaching the homestretch for the the second time guys, only now for real. I know I've totally slacked over this last week, but still I've done it and you guys have been here reading and supporting me this whole time. All of you are so great and I can't thank you enough. **

**As it's coming to a close and I'm losing my ability to be in any form of contact with you I would just really like to thank you for all the time you've taken out of your days and to read through this. Your support has meant the world as I undertook this relatively insane task. I was dealing with a lot of stress and problems in my life when I started this and I've come out a month later with a 180,000 word story under my belt and a different outlook on a lot of things. I've absolutely loved delving into this world of Izzie and Alex's and, most of all, being able to share it with all of you wonderful people. I'd love to hear what you enjoyed most as well as what you would like to see next. Obviously I already have other things lined up, but I can always use more suggestions or ideas. I'm afraid I can't say that I will see you tomorrow due to work, however I will see you the day after tomorrow!**


	31. Chapter 31

Izzie – December 31st 4:27 AM

I'm not entirely sure what it is that pulls me from the blissful unaware I'd been in a few seconds ago, all I know is that I've been shifted out of it. There's no sound, no light intruding through my eyelids, so I'm pretty irritated that I was awake right now. Instead of just rolling over and going back to sleep though, I crack my eyes open and find Alex staring right at me. Frankly, it was a little concerning waking up like that.

"You're staring at me," I mutter, the second half coming out as more of a groan than actual words. I crane my neck around to find the glaring red numbers on the clock, which reported an hour far too early for staring to be going on. "You're staring at me and it's four thirty in the morning."

"Sorry," he mutters halfheartedly as turns onto his back and shifts his gaze to the ceiling. I really just want to fall back asleep, but knew that I should probably find out why my husband was watching me sleep an hour before he had to be awake. Did I stop breathing or something?

The look on Alex's face grabs my attention for real as I abandon all hopes of more rest for the time being and offer him my full attention. "What are you that desperate for another go round?" I tease, trying to see if he'll respond with the same enthusiasm as just a few hours before.

He responds with a simple smile as he pulls me against his chest and kisses the tops of my head. "Go back to sleep, Iz," he replies simply. He was turning down sex? Now I was really getting worried.

"What's wrong?" I ask with all joking put aside. I pull myself up to eye level, using my elbows to help me hover right above his face. He was within excellent kissing distance right now. "Did something happen? Is it work?" Had I done something and not known it, maybe? Alex sighs, placing a hand on the top of my head in order to try and press it back onto his chest. "No," I argue, resisting his gentle push. "Just talk to me."

He doesn't say anything at first as he does his usual eye glance, hair rub, deal before saying anything. It was like he was exhausting all of his options before he had no choice but to respond to me. "You deserve better," he answers, effectively capturing my full attention and curiosity.

"Better what, exactly?" I ask. Sure, I thought I knew what he was talking about, after our little chat last night, but with Alex I couldn't be sure. Maybe he thinks I deserve better health, or a better place to live, or a better car. It was always good to clarify with Alex Karev.

"Someone better than me," he answers, making me frown automatically. "I know you love me, Iz. I believe that, but I'm not "that guy." I don't know what to... or how to..." He's struggling to find the words but I'm patient, waiting quietly for him to finish what he has to say. Alex never was one to say much for the most part, but once he found his words he came out with something incredible, words that could make my heart stop and head spin even if they were bound in simplicity. He just needed a little time to get it out. "I screw up, Iz. A lot, and you deserve someone better than the screw up. You shouldn't have to settle."

I roll my eyes at his absurdity. It wasn't that I didn't grasp the serious tone that he spoke in or how he believed what he was saying, it just seemed so utterly ridiculous that it was hard for me to accept. I don't say anything at first as I get out of bed, grabbing his shirt from off the floor to slip over my naked body before I went too far. I find what I'm looking for quickly, sitting out in the living room, the other one still sitting on the safe place of my dresser where I had left it before.

Alex is watching me as I walk around and climb back into bed. He sits up, leaning back against the headboard as I perch myself next to him, crossing my legs as I sit and stare at him. Wordlessly I hand him first my old ring, in all of it's tacky glory, and then the notebook, still opened on the page that displayed our fairly in depth house plans.

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, probably not really understanding my silent train of thought. "I said it last night, I'll say it again. You are a wonderful husband, Alex. You mess up," I agree, because it was undoubtedly true. "But so do I. And at the end of the day...we have something special. It's something that works because it's us and because we both want a stone fireplace and we can totally see four kids, two dogs and a huge kitchen. It's something special because we're messed up and not so good at certain things, but we love each other in ways that make up for all of the short comings."

"But I'm saying you shouldn't have short comings to be made up-" he starts to say before I cut him off.

I kiss him quickly as I steal my ring, yes I still claimed absolute possession of it despite the far nicer one that now rested on my finger. "You want proof that you're a good husband?" I ask him, searching his eyes for an answer as he says nothing. How could he not see it? was what I really wondered. After all he did, every single day, how could it not be as clear in his eyes as it was in mine? "The proof is right in this, Alex." I hold up the ring in example. "It's in this cheap, ugly ring that symbolizes our marriage and all of the crazy stuff that comes along with it. You're a good husband because you stay every single damn night that I'm in the hospital, with me. You make me feel beautiful when I'm not, you tell me you love me when you shouldn't, you make sure I eat when I don't want to."

I take off my current ring, replacing all of it's obvious, external beauty with the basic, childlike one of that which now sat on my finger. "You buy me a silly ring because you're willing to marry me on a whim even though...even though I was dying." I wipe the stubborn tears from my eye. I was sick of crying. Our love wasn't something to cry over, even if they were emotions of happiness, I wanted to try and display my love for him without needing him to break out a box of tissues. "We both have things we could work on, but I couldn't find a man half as kind, and loving, and caring as you if I searched the whole damn Earth." I lean into kiss him, ignoring the water that was coming from my eyes. "You are the best husband I could have ever asked for, Alex Karev."

His head shakes as he looks away from me. I sigh, beyond frustrated with his stubborn precognitions of who he was and what he was capable of. He didn't see who he really was every day.

"Do you...do you not like being married to me?" I ask, my head cocking to the side. Was he looking for an out, maybe, claim I could do better when really he's just thinking how he could do better? For one, someone not dying of cancer. But no, Alex loved me. He was there, every day no matter what crap happened or what was going on at work. You didn't have that sort of commitment for someone you didn't love, someone who you didn't want to have such a commitment with. But still, I didn't get it. "Alex," I say before he has the chance to answer my previous question, one I'd already answered myself. "You're a damn good husband." Just in case I had left anything out just a minute ago that didn't make that completely clear. "And even though we can be screw ups, the thing is, we're both willing to try. Are you willing to try for me, Alex?"

"Of course," he answers, his insecurities in the forefront of this conversation now.

"I'm not going to up and decide that someone else out there would make a better spouse," I say, disgusted at the very concept. "Besides, how many guys out there would put up with a chemo filled, baking nut, Christmas obsessed woman like me?" I ask with a light smile, annoyed when his own features remained all dark and twisty. "You aren't your dad."

That gets his attention as his eyes find mine and lock on, question written all through them, unbelieving my claim. "And I trust that you never, ever will be anything like him. You will never hit me, you will never hurt our children, you wouldn't dare become an alcoholic. You, Alex Karev, have nothing of your father's except a name."

"He wasn't always like that though, Iz. Before he lost his job he was a different guy." Maybe more like the guy Alex saw himself as now, the one who didn't hit his wife and gave his kid a hug. Maybe the guy helped his wife with the dishes after dinner and worked hard everyday to keep food on the table. He could have been a stand up husband, someone a woman could speak proudly of for marrying.

Alex was not just some stand up husband though. "Did he live in hospitals and keep track of his wife's medicines and secretly go into peds because it turns out he loves kids?" I tact the last one on, letting him know I'd figured him out.

"No, but-"

"You aren't the guy he was then and you won't become the guy he is now. It's simple." I shrug, declaring an end to that for the both of us. "I didn't marry you because you were there in that second, Alex. I married you because you're always there. When I need you, you're there, and that makes you a good husband."

He swallows a lump in his throat and stares at me with eyes that are first unsure before becoming accepting, and then he's once again watching me with a look that is reserved just for me, his wife. "I really want to be good enough for you," he admits and I lay my forehead against his, placing a light, quick kiss on his lips.

"You are," I answer. "You're more than just 'enough' for me. You're...everything." That seems to do the trick as he shakes his head in wonderment before kissing me, long and hard, and murmuring against my skin how he loves me. I smile because he gets it, and I smile because I know it's all true. I was lucky, blessed really. Sure, I had cancer and I was behind on my job and I had no hair, and those things sucked, but they were all temporary. At the end of the day though, no matter what, I had Alex. He was mine, and that was permanent.

9:43 AM

The second time I'm pulled from sleep I'm alone, no staring eyes to watch me breathe. I had no memory of waking up before Alex went to work, telling me he was either exceptionally quiet, or I especially tired.

Despite the fairly late hour of the morning my mind still seems sluggish, unwilling to cooperate with the demands of being awake just now. The desire to just allow sleep to pull me back in was strong, but I decided I was stronger as I rub my eyes, sit up, and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I could accomplish things today. I needed to, really. After all, tomorrow it would be back to the hospital for another week, at the very least, and I hardly wanted to be coming home to some pig sty when it was finally over. Lord knows Alex wasn't going to be cleaning anything...

I sigh as I pull off Alex's shirt and step into the shower, reluctant to realize this was my last day here. The time that wasn't spent hospitalized flew by so quickly, now just a blur of cookie baking, Christmas decorations, family visitations, and sex. I wondered if I could consider it as time well spent. Shouldn't I be using those few good days well, after all? Not wasting them or silly little tasks or useless projects. Had I wasted time that I should have been studying with baking? Maybe I could have perfected some of the more complicated sutures my hands were quickly becoming incapable of accomplishing instead of spending time on wrapping gifts and surrendering a whole day to sex. Were the things I chose to do with my time too inconsequential?

No, I decided for myself, just leaning my head back and allowing all of the glorious hot water to pour over me. Cookie baking had, in a way, helped me meet my daughter. Sex with my husband had rekindled a passion that was forced into dormancy for so many days and weeks, and besides, Christmas was only once a year. I didn't have much of a choice but to embrace it while I could. I longed for the days where my months no longer seemed to consist of only two weeks instead of four, when days could be worth sixteen hours to me instead of ten.

Life would return to normal again, I had to hold onto that belief even when it still seemed so far away. I'd one day reclaim my spot at the hospital, probably alongside the very interns I had been teaching not too long ago, but I'd be there nonetheless. I longed for the day that I could pull on my light blue scrubs and slip into my white coat. I imagined the patients I'd be able to help and the surgeries I would assist in. Who knew, maybe I'd be the resident assisting in my husband's surgeries in a couple years time.

Sometimes I worried, where our fellowships would land us and what we would do if a job wasn't so easy to acquire for the both of us. I couldn't imagine not working in the same hospital as him. It seemed like a moot point, especially when we were both not nearing the finish of our residencies for at least two more years. If I had learned nothing else over the past few years though, I'd learned the time goes quickly whether you let it or not.

The water unfortunately turns cold, pulling me from my thoughts and causing my previously relaxed my muscles to tense against it. I switch it off quickly and pull a towel around my body, breathing in deeply the steamed air of the bathroom. This was my home, I realize as I walk to my bedroom. Mine and Alex's, our own place that we had ownership of. We claimed it, no one else. We weren't bunking at Mer's or slumming at Derek's because he felt bad over kicking us out. We had our own place that we claimed, our own little place that belonged to just us. The significance may not seem so big, but when you've lived with someone else, relying on someone else, for your entire life, there's a certain moment of pride that hits you. A specific time when the security of home engulfs you and you can't help but take a moment and revel in it.

1:23 PM

"Hi, George," I say happily as I pick up my phone and surrender the knitting I had started. I was stitching without purpose, just pulling together loop after loop as my mind wandered away in thought. I wanted something to do on days like this. Work to have to accomplish, people to talk to, a husband home to make love with. A year ago I would have loved a day off, time to myself, no patients to worry about or Cristina to deal with. I could spend the day in my own little bubble of pleasantness. Six months of that same thing over and over however, not as much fun.

"Izzie," he answers and I can see him smiling, bright and shiny George. "What are you up to tonight?" he asks making me think for the first time that today was New Year's Eve. Huh, I hadn't even considered that before now. I wondered if you we were supposed to do something. Personally I had been all for reheating dinner from the other night and then having some sex, but maybe we were supposed to go out.

"Not yet, any thoughts on that?" Hopefully George was calling to invite us somewhere, not just chit chat about already made plans. Also, I hoped he knew Alex would be coming with me if he did invite me somewhere.

"A bunch of us are going to Joe's tonight, nothing fancy," he replies. "Wanna come?"

"Actually," I answer, a smile growing on my face at the thought. It'd be a great way to bring in the new year as well as celebrate my last chemo free night. I could spend sometime with my friends, have an alcoholic drink or two- I rather missed those -and be someplace aside from my house or the hospital. "That sounds perfect. Do me a favor?" I request, knowing he wasn't going to like what I was about to ask him to do.

"Yeah sure," he offers entirely willingly. Good ol' George.

"Would you mind...telling Alex about these plans?" I could tell him myself of course, spare George the pain of doing so, but it was my intention of letting Alex know before he got home at eight tonight. And, considering his track record of not answering his phone at work, well without help from someone that wouldn't happen. "I know that might not be on your list of fun things to do but...please?"

"I will, don't worry about it." I'm taken aback by his easy answer, like it wasn't a big deal in the slightest. "Actually, he was almost...nice to me today. It was kind of scary."

I smile, a small laugh coming forth from the truth in George's words. Alex being nice to George? It was kind of absurd, if not totally ridiculous. I must have gotten through to him to some degree. "Did he seem high?" I ask in good humor. A narcotic would be a good explanation as to what brought that about.

"He might have been. He was all "Hey, George,"and he even called me 'Dude,'" he says, like it was some strange phenomenon. Which, considering it had been from Alex to George, it kind of was.

"Just go with it," I say, shaking me head. It probably wouldn't last more than a day, but I appreciated the effort being set forth more than anything else. After all, that's what we had decided this morning. We would try, for each other we'd do our best. And this was him, putting his best foot forward and calling O'Malley "Dude" instead of Bambi or 007. It was silly, sure, but heartwarming at the same time. "The less questions asked the better."

"I guess," he answers. I hear the sounds of commotion coming from the background and know our conversation is coming to a close. He'd be running to a trauma room, dressing himself quickly in a sterile, yellow robe as he pulled gloves over his hands. Orders would be yelled out as the patient coded and doctors worked over him, getting IVs in place and determining neural function. I was so very envious. "I gotta go, but I'll see you tonight?" he asks, just as I'd predicted.

"Definitely," I agree, hanging up and setting the phone down sullenly. I don't sulk for long though. Because I'd be the one responding to that trauma in no time, and when that time came I needed to still be able to do sutures. So I pick my knitting project back up and set my fingers to work, sometimes pretending for just a second that I was pulling skin back into place instead of just looping fabrics together.

6:52 PM

I hum to myself as I knit, still working at the activity, though now having retired to my bed where I could put my feet up. I'd decided on making a blanket for the living room, something that matched our colour scheme. I'd stopped to eat, having had some of the penne I'd prepared the night before. I had to say, it was rather excellent. Alex has missed out by not showing up and then proceeding to be an ass. Oh well, more for me then.

The television had been on before, more as background noise than anything else, but at one point I had become rather involved in some soap opera that was on. I didn't have a clue of the title, or even of the names of any of the characters, but it was still encapsulating to watch. I could see why so many women without jobs got hooked. It was on during the day when there was nothing else to do and it was also all dramatic and fascinating. At least, more fascinating than the mundane details of every day life.

I'm just about ready to surrender my project and take a nap before Alex comes home, knowing I would, regretfully, need a little extra rest if I wanted to go out tonight. It made me feel like a child, but it would be responsible, right? Which, actually made me less of a child.

So I get up, setting my now large area of sewn together fabric down on top of our dresser along with my sewing needles and then flop down on to my bed, burying my face in my pillow and closing my eyes. I'd done nothing all day and yet somehow I was still tired, felt entirely capable of falling right to sleep if I just laid here long enough. My eyes slip shut and I can't be far from the blissful unaware when I hear the front door swing open, pulling me from the vast darkness of rest.

"Iz?" I hear Alex call out, just like he often did. Sometimes I wondered if he did that just to make I was alive and would respond. I try to make myself look more awake before he can make it to the bedroom, feeling an odd rush of shame of my almost middle of the day nap. It was stupid, he'd be happy I was sleeping, but I couldn't ignore the irrational impulse. "Izzie?" he asks one more time as he opens the door, bag still slung over his shoulder, shoes already kicked off. "Hey, sorry, did I wake you?"

He tosses his stuff on the ground and comes and crawls into bed next to me, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me close enough to kiss my cheek. I crane my neck to find his lips, happily meeting them. "Nah," I answer with a shrug. Technically, it was true. "I was just laying here."

"Mhm," he answers dubiously, kissing me again. "So I hear I'm going to Joe's tonight."

I give him a shy smile. "About that..." I trail off, knowing he wouldn't be angry with me for making plans. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Hell no," he answers simply. "As long as there's beer and you, I'm in." I smile in gratitude as his lips find there way to my neck, making me almost want to abandon all previous plans for something a little more physical. Who needed alcohol? Hell, who needed friends?

The urge is resisted however as I push against him lightly, wrinkling my nose of the very distinct hospital smell he was carrying on him. He smelt of cleaning products and surgical gowns. I had to admit, it was a little bit like the smell of your favorite blanket, all consistent and warm and comforting. "We're not going anywhere until you shower though."

"So demanding," he mutters back, letting his hands run along my body in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Damn this man and the effects he had on me.

"You...go shower, and I'll make dinner," I say breathlessly as his lips make their way to my chest. "Alex," I say, keeping my voice even and not allowing it to diffuse into the moan it wanted to. We had goals for the evenings, ones we needed to get to for once.

"Izzie," he answers, mocking my too-even tone and smiling up at me, knowing my resolve was fading. Why'd he have to be so persistent? "C'mon, we don't even have to be there for like, an hour and a half." I crane my neck to see the clock, checking his claim.

"We need to leave in thirty minutes," I answer with an eye roll at his gross exaggeration, pulling his face between my hands and pulling it back up to my mouth before it could travel down too far, use it's magical effects on me, and cause us to miss the whole event. We had friends, he saw them everyday but I didn't, and I was determined to see them tonight. "I need to socialize."

"Ugh, fine," he answers with fake annoyance, a light smile still teasing the side of his lips to let me know he wasn't _really_ mad about it, just pretending to try and coy me back into it. "But you owe me tonight," he warns and it makes my heart race.

Straightening my sweater, I get up before my resolve can fade any further. "Shower," I direct, pointing a finger in his direction. "We'll just have to eat there." I still needed to get ready and I wasn't in the mood to cook anyhow. A burger from Joe's sounded like an excellent last meal.

He mumbles something I don't put the effort into deciphering as he slinks off to the bathroom, leaving me alone once again. A nap was long since forgotten, both with the new stimulants racing through my body as well with the constricted time line. I wasn't terribly stressed about being on time. Considering we were meeting a bunch of surgeons what were the odds many of them would be there on time themselves? Not high, I'd venture a guess.

The closet and I play our usual game of staring contest. I wouldn't miss this aspect tomorrow when I returned to chemo. It was easy then, my wardrobe being limited to either pajamas or sweats with the occasional hospital gown thrown in for good measure. I used to love picking out an outfit. Finding a pair of jeans to fit my ass just right, a shirt to accentuate my breasts in the way I wanted. Or styling my hair with the perfect curls and waves in it. That final burst of self-confidence you got as you looked in the mirror one last time before leaving, putting on the finishing touches of makeup and recognizing how utterly hot you looked. It was fun, just plain fun. Now dressing was a torture, every time I went through this was like another stab at my confidence, being reassured only by knowing that Alex thought I was hot even with my bald, shiny head on display.

"Wear this," he says, coming out of nowhere and handing me the dress I'd worn to two important dates that stuck out in my mind. The first being the intern mixer, the night it all began as I spent hours in a room meeting all of the people who would one day be like my family, the last night before I started some crazy job that took away the ability to sleep or think of anything but central lines and rectal exams. The other evening had been the first date Alex and I had gone on, a night that I had chosen that dress for specifically in hopes that it would bring out the same good luck on that first as the last one. Obviously that hadn't happened, squashing that small superstition in my mind long before it could grow any further, as well as caused me to lose interest in the dress itself. "It makes you look hot."

"Made me," I correct automatically. I don't say it sadly, just matter of factly. It used to fit me far better than it ever could now, and that was okay, one day I'd look stunning in it again. Just, not tonight. "It made me look hot."

"Well," Alex says shrugging his shoulders and reaching back into the closet. "If you really want to look hot I'd say go in this." He holds out my lingerie piece, in all of it's festive red lace and fluff.

I roll my eyes at him, unable to fight the laugh that bubbles up. "Seriously?" I ask condescendingly. "We have to save it for later, remember?"

"Ah," he answers and replaces it in the closet, pushing the first date dress back into my hands. "Wear it," he insists, kissing me quickly before turning to the closet for his own clothes to wear. I liked it better when he was coercing me into sex.

8:04 PM

"Are you ready or what?" Alex asks as he impatiently leans against the doorway to our bedroom, just watching me search through the room. He'd been ready after five minutes of starting and then moved to the kitchen to snack for twenty minutes whilst I finished trying to prepare. I put on makeup, found some heels, had to be talked in to keeping the dress on, and was now looking for a scarf that would mildly match what I was wearing.

"Do I look ready, Alex?" I question, my voice irritated. Maybe it was because he wasn't helping me, or that he was the reason I was in here in the first place. Either way, his presence was beginning to bug me.

"I mean, yeah," he answers with a shrug, glancing up and down my body. "If you'd stop running around like a nut you'd look totally ready."

Stupid men, they don't notice anything. "My scarf, Alex," I say in a huff, laying the three I'd found out on the bed. I had black and white, yellow and green, and pink and white, none of which really matched my pale orange dress very well. "I still need my scarf."

"You have three sitting right there," he gestures to them with a flop of his hand, looking to his watch before sighing, annoying me further.

"Yes, Alex, and they match my dress as well as the pillows you bought match our couch." I glare at him and he just kind of stares back at me, not getting involved in the slightest to my unprecedented anger. He knew he didn't really have anything to worry about, my rage all contained to the task at hand.

"Well, I don't know what you're looking for 'cause you don't own any more," he points out, making me give up. I was hoping I might have overlooked one, bought it and then forgotten about it. I used to do it all the time with chapstick, and gum, I did it a lot with gum.

"I shouldn't wear this dress," I say again, looking down at the awkward way it fell on my body. I was a woman who was gifted with a fantastic body, as such I was used to buying things that really showed that off, so now that nothing fit in that way, it was all wrong.

"You should wear the dress and screw the scarf," he tells me, walking in to try and get me moving, I'm sure. "You look hot and no one's going to even notice, Iz."

"I can't," I argue feebly, looking down at my collection with my hands on my hips, like I was getting ready to scold them for not being in a more variety of colors.

"Hannah's always walking around with a bald head," Alex says, catching me by surprise. It wasn't like she was some taboo topic, but we didn't tend to discuss her so much, especially in this context. "Stop trying to hide it like it's some big, horrible, shameful thing. No one gives a crap but you."

It sounds rude, how he says it to me. It sounded like he didn't care or get it, but really that was just Alex's way of telling me that I shouldn't be self-conscious of something that, for the time being, was part of who I was. I couldn't help the urge to cover it up and hide it away though. At least with a scarf on my head I didn't feel exposed to the world. There were some people who would be able to overlook my illness with it covered like that. Take it off though and forget it, I was a cancer billboard.

But, I think as I bite on my lip, if Alex could be nice to George, in his own Alex way, because I told him _he _didn't need to feel insecure, then maybe I should listen to him and just do it, go with a bare head. "Fine," I say with a seemingly uncaring shrug. "Let's just go then."

There's a split second of shock on his face before he clears it off, re-adapting the monotonous, uncaring look and hooking an arm around my waist. We stop to pull all of our winter garb on. I was grateful the bar wasn't far away. Tonight it looked like a nasty storm already that had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Between the snow and the drunks, I wouldn't be surprised if there were tons of trauma cases rolling in tonight at Seattle Grace. Mercy West would probably be full too, along with Seattle Pres. I gave ninety percent of the people in our group tonight two hours before they all left to go back to work. My husband would probably be one of them.

Alex is the one to pull a hat on my head, I'd been prepared to walk out without it in my new found determination of confidence. "You don't need to freeze your scalp," he explains as we leave, turning to lock the door behind us. I sigh, turning to take his hand and pull him down the stairs with me. I was going to enjoy tonight, I decided. After all, I only had one more night to drink so I'd be enjoying it one way or another.

10:14 PM

Another round of laughter spills across the table at George's comment, even he himself cracking up. Alex had left our little area, which included me and George as well as Lexie, Meredith, and Cristina, to go play darts with Derek, Mark, and the pig killer. The night was going well. It was rejuvenating to get out and spend time with my colleagues and friend, but I could feel myself fading fast. I wanted to try and stay until midnight, along with everyone else, but my lack of a nap earlier today was coming back to bite me in the ass.

The bar was exceptionally crowded tonight, filled with all sorts of noisy and rambunctious people, mainly those of which were drunk. An hour earlier we'd gotten a bit of a show as two wasted men began a fist fight, causing Joe some stress as he wrangled them outside. I was just grateful it wasn't any I knew. They saved all of their fights for the hospital. I squint my eyes, trying to resist covering my ears from the excessively loud group of people a table away from us. We were loud enough on our own.

I lay my head against George as I swirl the straw around my glass of club soda. I'd been forced to stop any alcohol intake after my second drink, per the table of doctor's commands. "You okay?" he asks me quietly, at first trying to shift his gaze to meet mine but then realizes that would include knocking my head off of it's resting place. "Should I get Alex?"

"No need," I hear him say from behind me, a hand grasping my shoulder. I pick my head up, regretting my moment of weakness. It was my last night, I wanted to enjoy it. But now all eyes were on me, Meredith's and Cristina's debate over surgical tactics drawn to a halt along with the joking that had been going on just a moment before. Now I was the recipient of several pitying, concerned stares by several doctors.

"I'm fine," I say immediately, taking another sip of my drink and squaring my shoulders. "Go back to your game," I try and insist with a smile. I turn back to Lexie, trying to reengage in conversation with her. I was curious as to what had become of my interns since I'd left. I knew they were all cast off to a different resident, but I had just begun really starting to try and nurture their educational development. I hoped it wasn't all going to waste by Cristina's stifling ways of teaching now.

"They were kicking my ass anyhow," Alex shrugs, not persistent on leaving but pulling up a stool to sit next to me anyhow. Sometimes I just wanted to point out to him that I wasn't going to drop dead if he left me alone for ten minutes. I restrained though, knowing he'd deny that he ever hovered to begin with.

It's just after I've delved back into conversation that I hear the familiar beeps, signifying emergencies and lives that needed to be saved. Everyone around the table checks their's without a second thought. For a split second I almost reach into my coat pocket to do the same.

"They've got a trauma rolling in," George says, getting up and pulling his coat on. Owen does the same as he says his goodbyes, coming over and kissing her on the cheek. Oh that's right, Cristina would be the one to date the masochistic, pig murderer.

"A trauma?" she asks. She was like a dog who's ears shot up when they heard someone at the door, just waiting to go and attack whoever had showed up. "It could involve cardio. I should go in." I roll my eyes at the predictability as she stands from the table. Before anyone can respond though her own pager starts to go off. "Yes!" she says excitedly, abandoning her drink and her friends. "It's Dr. Haun." I swear the smile on her face is so smug it's ridiculous.

Alex's goes off next, and I give him a sad smile, knowing we'd be going back to the house and I'd probably end up on my own for the night. Accidents would be covering the streets tonight. Bad ones, the kind that demanded attention of surgeons.

"Now that's not fair," Mer complains as Derek's and Mark's go off next, leaving her as the only one without a page. "I want my sparkle pager back."

"Take my case," Alex shrugs, not getting up from his spot next to me. "I'm too tired to go in tonight," he claims and I raise a dubious eyebrow at him. Yeah right. Doctor's lived on tired, thrived on tired, you didn't turn down a surgery or a patient because you were tired.

"You sure?" Mer questions, already getting up and being helped into her coat by Derek. Alex waves her on, taking a sip of his beer. "Thanks, Alex," she comments before the group of them walks off, leaving behind Lexie who twisted her fingers awkwardly. Talk about being a third wheel.

"When Alex and I were interns," I start, leaning in like I was telling her a secret. "We would hang around the pit on nights like this and find a case one way or another." She nods, getting the hint and taking it as helpful advice. "Night," I call after her, sighing as the crowd diminishes now to just Alex and I, the noisy buffoons not far from us irritating me still. At least now we could go home, hardly any reason to stay behind when no one else was here and only one of us was drinking.

My eyebrow stays raised as I give him a knowing look, he makes a face to suggest he's entirely unaware what I was looking at him for. "What?" he asks, a pseudo tone of annoyance coloring his tone.

"You're tired, huh?" I ask. He looked pretty awake to me.

"It's been a long few days," he answers, making me roll my eyes.

"Bull," I call as I hop down from my school and hold a hand out for him to take. I was ready to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep for a few hours.

"I wanna have sex with my wife instead of go deal with mangled bodies, there's nothing wrong with that," he explains like I don't know any better. Sure he might want sex but he was also Alex, and I bet he had a far sweeter motive behind his uncaring exterior. He always did.

"In the eyes of Cristina there would be," I point out as we wave goodbye to Joe and exit the warm bar to the freezing temperatures outside. I shiver as I pull my hat further down over my ears and try to make our way quickly to our car, before my fingers fell off.

"I'm not really searching for Yang's approval," he says as we both get in the car and he turns the protesting engine on.

"Fair enough," I shrug, allowing him to live in his world of pretend perverse motives.

"Let's go home," he suggests as he pulls the car cautiously out of the parking lot and onto the nearly abandoned road, turning the windshield wipers on to clear the snow off as it falls down.

"I haven't heard a better idea all night."

11:43 PM

The quiet hum of the heater kicks on as I tuck my head against Alex's bare chest, still all smiley and elated as we lay in the still post-sex state of relaxation and contentment. I didn't want to move, didn't want this simple moment to shift in anyway at all. I remembered not too long ago when I'd felt the same way whilst laying in bed with my dead fiance. It was this seemingly totally perfect moment where the world felt at peace and like nothing could be wrong.

It was though. In all actuality everything was wrong. For one I was allowing myself to be coerceded into a world of crazy, but really I was dying of an advanced, aggressive cancer. But eventually I was pulled from that moment, forced to let it go. And time went on and life seemed awful, but things got better, the future was better than any one moment that I could contain myself to. Even with all of the chemo and surgeries and sick days, it was still better. As would my future from here be as well. I loved this moment, this time right here between Alex and I and all of the amazing feelings it contained and the magic that sparked between us with a kiss. And I'd love the future that came to be from this. I would love when I woke up, ten years from now, remembering this moment of utter contentment and be able to think back again, as to how I lived without the things I'd eventually come to obtain in that time.

"What're you thinking about?" Alex asks quietly, his fingers trailing gently along my exposed arm, sending chills down my spine from his light touch.

"Life," I answer simply. Because that was what we got to have. We had the opportunity for a life. One filled with joy and chaos and probably some arguments too. A life was our's, not when my chemo was done or two years from now when Alex finished his residency. Right here and now was our life, the one we got to share together. It started at that alter a couple months before, and it would carry on until the day one of us died. Regardless of whatever else might get in our way, it belonged to us.

So tomorrow morning we would get up together and face the day. We'd celebrate the new year and all it's possibilities as Alex drove himself to work and me to the beginning of my next round of IL-2. We'd find strength in each other to get through it for another month, pull out our house plans as we anticipated the potential of our future together, and get through each rough night and scary set of scans. Together we'd face it all, take everything that came our way and fight until we won.

This was our life, held together and nurtured by this messed up love we had between us. Made possible each day by the willingness to face it, be happy in spite of it all and be determined to live as we wanted here and now. It was a life that wasn't without it's hardships, those hardships that made you just a little more grateful when things weren't so awful and showed you just how strong of a person you could be. It was a life that was ours just like this apartment and that intimate stare between us or those memories of first dates and wedding vows. It was ours and it was filled with flaws that made it utterly, completely perfect. "I was just thinking about life."

**Okay, I know this is crazy late, and I am SO sorry, but things got insane with my being sick and then working extra hours and trying to get things together for Uni. All in all life just got insane and I found myself without words to write in the time I did have. I didn't know what I wanted to with the final chapter outside of the opening part which I wrote before I even posted the last one lol. (By the way Jenna, totally not mad of course because you were definitely right in what you said. That is why I had this written before, because it was a part that needed to be included but Alex was the kind of guy, I thought, who would have taken the easy out and just had sex instead of carrying on the conversation. Later though, it continued to bother him so he did finally relinquish his stubborn ways and admit his insecurities. So, I hope you don't mind how I did that and you should absolutely know I could never be upset with such a sweet reviewer as yourself who only had the storie's best interest in mind.) Also, special thanks to my many reviewers who I saw came and reminded me to get myself busy and update. It was super nice to see how much you all really wanted to read this and I hope it didn't disappoint.**

**I kind of think I was reluctant to reach an end with this because it has been like my baby since I started it back in the beginning of December. I've sacrificed sleep and social interaction and basic activities for this, and I couldn't be happier in doing so. I've loved writing this story, even on the nights where it seemed impossible to finish my words in time. This is an accomplishment for me, writing so much in such a short amount of time, and I take pride in it. I couldn't have done it without all of you, supporting me and reading these many, many chapters of unpolished sentences and poorly edited paragraphs. To know so many of you really enjoyed reading this project as much as I enjoyed writing it feels wonderful and I thank you all dearly. Do let me know your thoughts on the conclusion.**

**We haven't fully reached the end though, however, as I still have an epilogue left to upload. If all goes according to plan and my world doesn't spin out of control again I would say you should expect that up by the end of the week, maybe just a little sooner. Thank you all so much, once again. I will see you soon!**


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